


Wants and Needs

by spirogyra



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Briarwood baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, plot with eventual porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2018-10-05 09:56:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 48,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10304057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirogyra/pseuds/spirogyra
Summary: Cassandra wants to know about one thing, but learns more than she anticipated. Jarett wants to help, but sex is so much easier than forgiveness when the past is so dark and still so fresh.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. the rating will change when it gets to that point  
> 2\. I'm taking a slightly different/less simple approach to Cassandra. If the F/M tag seems too simple, I want to make it not that simple (without just revealing it in the GD notes)  
> 3\. echoislesfandom.tumblr.com

She held the cup to her mouth and inhaled the scent of tea and berries wafting up in the steam. It reminded her of summer even with the grounds of the castle outside still covered in snow. Cassandra pictures Percy sitting across from her then tried to imagine what she would say.

Nothing.

This just wasn't something she could talk to her brother about. Perhaps if Vesper or her mother were there, she could talk to them. But if they were there, this wouldn't be something she would need to talk about to start with. No, she was very much on her own with this, which also meant she had no one to answer to.

Kind of a win-win, but also not necessarily a great thing. Cassandra would manage; it was what she did.

***

"Do you drink tea, Mr. Howarth?"

"When offered." He looked very out of place, still dressed in his training leathers, as he sat at the small table. "I'm afraid I might be leaving dirt in your chair though." He smiled tightly as he watched her pour a cup of tea.

"If the furniture survived the likes of the Briarwoods, a little honest dirt won't hurt them all." Cup filled, she pushed it to him and smiled, genuinely. "Please, don't hold back on my account. It's quite good for tea." Lady Cassandra de Rolo leaned forward to whisper, "I don't normally care much for tea."

"It is a… useful nicety." Jarett sipped the tea, and made a noise of pleased surprise. It was better than he was expecting from tea drunk in Whitestone.

"It makes me think of warmer weather and being outside," Cassandra said before she took a sip from her own cup. "Things I enjoy, but don't get enough of."

"The trappings of a ruler." It was very different here from Emon from Ank'Harel, but it seemed…. Easier was the wrong word, but Whitestone seemed like a place someone without a lot of experience could rule. And with strong ties to the land and heart in the right place, the people would accept her. They already had.

"A reluctant ruler." She sighed and set her cup down. "This is rightfully my brother's position, but he was lucky enough to be a savior instead of-" Her lip curled in unmistakable self-disgust. "-whatever I am."

Jarett also set his cup down, and looked more closely at the young woman across the table from him. He could see past the white in her hair and the deep stress lines on her face; she looked, without those, even younger than her age. "I think you are not the first person to be put in such a position."

"Probably the first to hate it too."

"Do you?" He had the strong impression she didn't hate it, not really. The fact she made every effort to do well was enough to tell him that.

"Well I don't want it. I never wanted it. My brother-"

"You think he would do better in your place?" Jarett laughed, not maliciously, but imagining any one of Vox Machina being a ruler, not a leader, but a ruler…. "I think you don't know him as well as you think you do. Or wish you did."

In the ensuing silence, he took another drink of his tea, merely lukewarm now, and nibbled one of the butter cookies sitting out. Maybe all she needed or wanted was for someone to tell her the truth, that this was a job she was stuck with.

"I'm going to ask something of you, Mr. Howarth," she said suddenly, sitting up straight in her chair, but staring down at her mostly empty cup. "You can refuse if you wish; please don't think you're being pressured into it."

There was nothing about running a city or even more than organizing the castle guard that he knew. Surely he couldn't-

"I want you to teach me about sex."

Jarett choked on the crumbs he hadn't yet swallowed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loyalty and forgiveness: two things Cassandra questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse the ham-fisted "format" here. I hope it's not too difficult to understand that the bit between the ~~~ is a mini flashback. I just really didn't want to make it all italics.
> 
> Hoping to update this with regularity to encourage myself to write with more consistency.
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com

That could have gone better. Maybe. Cassandra wasn't entirely sure how she expected it to go, hadn't thought really beyond just  _ asking _ , getting the words out of her mouth. In hindsight, she was happy he hadn't immediately said yes.

~~~~

"My Lady-"

"Oh please, my name is Cassandra. I'd much rather this be a conversation between two people, Mr. Howarth. Just two people."

He recovered in an instant. "If we are just two people having what I would consider to be a very serious conversation, then you must call me Jarett." He picked up another cookie, turned it in his fingers, but didn't lift it to his mouth. "This is very unusual. For me."

"And awkward. See? This is why I shouldn't be a ruler. I don't even know what I'm saying! This was a dumb idea." Cassandra stood, almost knocking her chair over as the legs got caught on the edge of the rug. "I'm sorry I asked. This is so embarrassing. Please, don't tell anyone. I'll increase your pay if y-"

"No, please. You're right that this is awkward, very awkward, but you don't need to think I would start spreading stories. Please, sit back down. Neither of us have any reason to lose our heads." Maybe a large drink would have been good, but  _ gods _ is he actually considering this? "Would happen to have anything stronger to drink?"

As she hadn't sat, Cassandra fetched a half-empty bottle of wine. "I'm not much of a fan," she explained as she poured it into a teacup, "but I've been having a hard time sleeping." She started filling a second cup. "It helps me sleep."

"Nice to see you don't stand on ceremony," Jarett said as he picked up the cup.

"It does get tedious. If I had a gold piece for every person that bowed to me in a day…." She slowly sat and picked up the other cup. "I'd hire someone else to rule." A long drink, followed by a grimace.

"Please, if you could, tell me why you're asking me for this. It seems… unnecessary for you."

"Because I'm in some minor position of power of a small city far away from any other civilization, and I'm young and vulnerable? Trust me, I've thought of all the reasons why this is something I  _ should _ do." Cassandra drained the rest of the cup, then pushed it away. "Would you like more?"

"No, because I think it makes too convenient of a distraction. Please, I can't give you an answer in good conscience if I don't understand."

~~~

Cassandra knew Jarett was a good man, loyal to Vox Machina to a degree that honestly confused her, and now Whitestone. It did make her wonder just how liquid his loyalties could be, or if he had simply been looking for someone to be loyal to.

Loyalty was something Cassandra didn't know how to judge any longer. Betrayal, even though she'd been too young, too naive to understand it, had been at her shoulder since she was a child. She didn't trust her gut now, had no instincts about people. The Briarwoods had rendered her permanently mistrustful and emotionally warped, and she had no idea what could change any of that.

But perhaps it was better this way, so that she could rule and be vigilant in a way others couldn't. She'd be cold and lonely, distant, grow old as a figurehead of the city, and finally a ghost in the castle itself. Probably she'd be friendless; acquaintances were fine, but without true friends, and maybe people would understand. But maybe they wouldn't, and she'd become an object of fear for the people.

She wanted none of those things. All Cassandra wanted was to live, to find some kind  _ life _ that she'd been denied, but she had no idea how to even begin when she was tied to her wretched desk, and had people treating her like someone she wasn't and would never be.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in." Cassandra didn't look up when Jarett entered.

"My Lady-"

"Cassandra. Please."

"Cassandra, you look distressed. Have you changed your mind?" His footsteps were silent, because he spoke to her from the doorway, but then his hands were on her shoulders, thumbs making small circles on the back of her neck.

She shook her head. "I don't know who I am. I don't want to rule because that's all I'll ever be. I'll always be that to someone else, and not me. Not even my brother knows me." Desperately she'd been avoiding looking in the mirror the entire time, and she was saved from that temptation by the sudden flood of tears. "And now I'm just being a stupid girl, crying about nothing." Perhaps that was true, but it felt bigger, much bigger than some silly little  _ thing _ she was crying about.

There was a quiet hushing. "You need rest more than anything, My Lady. Let me."

While Cassandra had no clue what Jarett was going to do, has soon as arm went around her back and the other tucked under her legs, she all but went limp in his hold.

Effortlessly, he lifted her, and crossed the room to her bed. The covers were already pulled back, ready for her to slip between them, making it easy for him to settle her in, but her arm stays strong around his back, not allowing him to leave.

As he took hold of her hand, small but not fragile and  _ strong _ , he said, "Cassandra, I don't think I'm someone who can help you."

Through her sniffling and tears, she answered, "I think you're the only one who can. The only one I want to, who doesn't know me, who they think I am, or what I've done." She sniffled again before taking a deep shuddering breath. "What I  _ had _ to do. I don't think anyone will ever forgive me for that."

Jarett kneeled at the side of the bed so that Cassandra could maintain her hold of him. "I think the only person who doesn't forgive you is you."

Finally, she did pull away, and it was to laugh bitterly. "I don't need a gods damned therapy session. I need-" But she didn't know what she needed, only that there is something missing horribly in her life now, stolen away, and she might never get it back. "I need to be someone else."

"That doesn't happen, believe me, I know. You could run, but you will still be that person. Here, let me tell you." Jarett stood just so he could sit on the edge of the bed, to look at her and watch out the window as the moon started to peak above the trees. "I was younger, younger than you, and did things I'm not proud of, none of it worth mentioning. I was banished from the city, and whether it was a mercy or too harsh a punishment doesn't matter. That will always be me. That was what I did, and I paid the price for it."

He shrugged; the frustration of the whole thing faded long ago, and he couldn't fight the truth. "I made a choice, a lot of choices, since then that I wouldn't repeat those mistakes, no matter what, but it's still me. I could commit those crimes again if I wished to, but I don't. I've done something better with my life now, even if fighting a dragon will never be a high point.

"Maybe you would have made different choices if you had known, but that's what you did at the time. That is the end of that story. Now you work on a new story, a story you like better, with a smarter main character. I have a very folksy plant metaphor if you'd like to hear it." He smiled, hoping she could see it.

"Honestly, anything resembling a discussion of crops is off the table. We've been preparing for spring for a week now. As if I know anything about growing vegetables." That managed to get an amused laugh from her, and she wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her nightgown. "I don't know what I would have done if Percy hadn't suggested setting up a council. Don't tell him that."

"My lips are sealed."

There was silence except for the hissing of the dying coals in the fireplace.

"Thank you, Jarett. Would you stay here? Until I fall asleep."

"Of course." He started to stand, to sit in the chair across the room, but she grabbed his hand before he could move away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra needs convincing of the most important thing in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everything's coherent and flowing. I worry about repeating myself a lot of times, but then I think Cassandra's a character that probably has those kinds of thoughts that keep bothering her, and aren't so easy to just make stop. It's a fine line between repeating information already given and a character that has invasive, looping thoughts. And I'm still working on Jarett's voice; it's not quite got that Mercer ring to it yet.
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.tumblr.com

The daily tasks never seemed to be finished, because how could she have to go over the same sets of paperwork each day? But this day, Cassandra made the effort to look them over more closely. Not for irregularities, but simply so she had better knowledge of the things being asked of her.

Not just her, but of all of Whitestone. It was her responsibility to look out for the city's best interests after all. She certainly didn't do this for the power; the last five years had made the idea of ruling from a seat of ultimate power distasteful. It was fine for other cities, but not for her, and she wasn't sure how much Whitestone really needed a ruler.

The memories of her father were vague outside of dressing up with everyone for Winter's Crest, or the spring fertility rites (not that she had been aware of what that meant back then), or the Grey Hunt. How much say he had in the workings of the city she never really knew, and so far, she suspected it wasn't much more than as a figurehead and referee for disputes between residents.

There was still debate about what to do with the bridge negotiations, and while the incident with the Briarwoods was well over with, talks with Emon were a bit in flux. Cassandra knew she should be doing something to help with the rebuilding, but Whitestone was still working on its own, and they had far fewer resources to work with.

_ I'm sorry. I wish I could offer more, especially after you helped us so much.  _

_ Cassandra Johanna von Musel Klossowski de Rolo _

She signed just her first name, still finding the look of official paperwork with her handwriting and her name on it very odd.

Waiting for the ink to dry first, she then folded the parchment before sealing it with wax and the family crest stamp. A simple string tied around it completed the letter, and she set it aside to fetch a messenger when she was done. Magical communication was, of course, quicker, but there was no replacing words inked on parchment. Even when they could be just as false as ones spoken, people believed what they could see and touch.

Without all the correspondence Anders had kept, who knew what situation they'd all be in at the moment? A political fight with Emon over a group of eager saviors with poor planning skills would most likely have been disastrous for Whitestone. "You're worrying about nothing," Cassandra mumbled quietly, before starting on the next document in the pile.

It  _ was _ a really good distraction for how she'd embarrassed herself, to keep her from going over that again and again in her head.

~

From the shadowed interior of the gateway to the training yard, Cassandra watched the group reassemble from their lunchtime rest. They grouped up in pairs, armed with swords that even from a distance she could see were blunted training weapons, and with a single shout from Jarett, began sparring. Certainly she was no master of the sword, or dagger, but Cassandra could measure the skill of the trainees; they were progressing, showing skill.

"What did you do with the ones that couldn't tell the hilt from the point?" she asked as Jarett approached her spot.

"Set them to easier duties. These are the ones that will probably prove useful if the city and castle are ever under attack." He leaned against the wall next to her, crossed his arms, and said nothing more.

"I'm not one hundred percent certain, but I think my question still stands," Cassandra said with such false casualness, she considered turning and walking away right then.

"Maybe, My Lady, you should ask again when you are one hundred percent sure."

It wasn't dismissive or condescending; it was… protective, and Cassandra found herself nodding. "I'll do that. And please, don't stay here in Whitestone for any reasons other than your own. I would feel awful if you stayed here and hated it."

For a long, worrying moment, Jarett remained quiet. "I'm used to moving around. It's a nice change here. I  _ am _ at the mercy of my employers though."

"And who knows whose mercy they're at. Whatever the next great monster that decides to show up, I suppose. There doesn't seem to be a shortage of them." She sighed heavily, knowing there would be a next time, there was always a next time, when they'd bring another body back.

She'd missed them bringing her brother back, and she still debated on whether she was happy she'd missed that. They'd brought Scanlan's daughter to assist with his resurrection, and she hadn't even known Percy had been dead until he brought back, and  _ none _ of them had found the courage to tell her.

"You look distinctly unhappy."

Somehow, it seemed her destiny to be constantly shunted aside and forgotten until she was needed for something. "I'm not exactly a fan of Vox Machina. I know they mean well, and they do good in the world-"

"But."

"But. I feel like…." Cassandra shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I don't matter. I simply need to start remembering that. I'm not as important as they make me feel when they show up."

"If I might be so bold to invite myself to dinner with you this evening?"

Though he hadn't directly addressed her words, Cassandra knew enough about Jarett to understand this self-invitation would come back around to the topic. She couldn't refuse, not really. She didn't want to. "It would be my pleasure if you'd join me at dinner. I do find it rather lonely. Such a large table, so few people."

"I thought, perhaps, somewhere more private, for private conversations."

"Mr. Howarth."

"My Lady?"

"In the west sitting room after you've finished your duties. And bathed."

He smiled and bowed. "Of course."

~

This room was her father's office. She remembered he liked it for the view and the afternoon sun. It was big though, too big for her, so she'd turned it into a sitting room, more casual than her own office or even the library. When she'd found time, she decorated it in a decidedly more masculine style, something that Cassandra felt fit Whitestone as a whole.

The weather didn't permit for the lighter, more fanciful clothing she pictured when she was little, reading stories about royalty in far away lands. Everything was heavy padded cloth, furs, and leather. Tall boots and gloves, warm hats, scarves woven from delicate wool, and mulled wine on the coldest nights.

Sitting in front of a fire, sipping hot cider, a plate of warm biscuits for nibbling, the head of the largest deer ever caught in the nearby forest watching over her, and the quiet of a castle without a family of nine living in it: it didn't feel right at all, but she thought she needed the peace.

Luckily Cassandra never saw ghosts.

There was a soft knock to pull her attention away from the dancing flames warming her face. "Yes?"

"Dinner as you requested, Lady Cassandra."

"Thank you. If you could just leave it on the table, that'll be all for the evening." The idea of a handmaiden was ridiculous; she was young, and at some point she might need the help, but for now, she was perfectly capable of dressing herself.

"Thank you, my lady." The servant dipped into a small curtsy before she exited the room and shut the door silently behind herself.

Boar again, until livestock was more plentiful. There wasn't anything wrong with boar, but it had to be prepared more carefully, and sometimes the cooks weren't paying attention.

Another knock, this one more bold. "Come in, Mr. Howarth."

He spoke as he opened the door. "I waited until I saw the food get dropped off. I wasn't sure-"

"As if it's anyone business, and I don't think anyone cares. If you haven't noticed, people are just happy to be alive; gossip hasn't quite fallen back into fashion." Cassandra smiled, just at the corners of her mouth, but it was genuine, reflected in her eyes, and gestured to the other end of the small couch. "I hope you don't mind boar. They've been plentiful, and destructive. We can feed several families for a week off one beast, or just me for what seems like a lifetime."

"You're too generous."

"Please stop." Cassandra hadn't lost her smile quite yet. "I don't want to do that here. Remember? Cassandra."

Jarett lowered his head briefly, a bow of simple politeness. "Of course. I find it's safer to not assume an offer extended remains that way."

"Hm. I can see how that might be a concern, but I like to think I'm not so fickle. I asked something of you that deserves more respect than names given out and retracted like a used cleaning rag."

That got him laughing, deep and loud, throwing his head back. "I don't know if you know this, or respect it, or even care, but there are times where you sound very much like your brother."

Cassandra grimaced, showing her relative age. "Please no."

"He's very intelligent, and a more than passable fighter-"

"All of which I've witnessed."

"And this won't come as a surprise, but he suffers as well. Like you."

"With all his friends, and his lover, and path far away from here as quickly as he possibly can? That suffering?" Cassandra stood abruptly to move to the table with the tray of food on it, mostly to hide the clench of her jaw and the way it made the tendons in her neck stand out.

But Jarett wasn't moved at all by her rebuttal. In fact, he draped his arm across the back of the couch and settled into a more comfortable position. "The two of you will always suffer. Remember what I said? There is no changing you."

"That was fine before, when it was just my own guilt keeping me awake at night," she snapped back, hands clenching the edge of the table. "But now I'll just suffer until I die. What good does it do me to be smart then? I'd be better off to throw myself from the top of the castle. I should have done that five years ago!"

When Jarett replies, his voice is gentle, more gentle than she imagined it could be. "And what good what it have done? This suffering saved countless lives, who also suffer. Do you see? Sacrifice isn't always taking the burdens of others all onto your shoulders. Sometimes, it's sharing the burden, struggling together. But. That was just something my mother said when I gave her the bread I'd stolen.

"An old woman who would rather starve than resort to theft, with a stupid child who couldn't understand, and was driven from his home for it."

More guilt. Forever Cassandra would be questioning her choices. "It doesn't matter. That's done; I never jumped off the castle. I was complicit in the attempted murder of my brother and friends. I actively attacked them with my own hands. You never heard about that though, did you?"

"No."

She hadn't heard him stand, but he was behind her, but she willed herself not to react to his presence.. "Not only do I have no idea how to do any of this, I don't deserve it. I never should have come out of that place beneath the castle."

"And how could I convince you that you should have, that you deserve to  _ live _ ?"

In a whisper, "I don't know. I suppose no one's ever tried."

"Then I will."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Briarwoods gave her what she needed. Now Jarett will give her what she needs, but doesn't necessarily want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for... something gross, but not graphic. It's the bit about her boots, starting with "I wore three pair of socks". It felt like something the Briarwoods would do.
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.tumblr.com

Dinner was repeated, complete with stilted conversation at the start because she didn't know what to say and he followed her lead. It became evident to her that she had no idea what constituted a casual adult conversation.

"It's funny," she said the third night they shared a table in the sitting room as she looked out the window, "I haven't been out in ages. Or at least it's felt like ages. I suppose it was Winter's Crest, just after the Briarwoods were killed. People look at me."

Jarett shrugged as he looked over her shoulder at the window and the landscape beyond. "You are the ruler of Whitestone. Of course they look."

"That's not why they look though. It would be naive and unhelpful to let myself believe that."

"Obviously it is so helpful now."

Cassandra turned her head sharply to look at him, not quite glaring. "Sarcasm is unbecoming."

"Is it? I've found I don't mind it so much. It can lighten a needlessly stressful situation." Jarett reached across the small table and brushed his thumb across the corner of Cassandra's mouth, clearing away a smear of oil from a roasted potato.

Stunned, Cassandra sat blinking, then relaxed in her chair. "All right then."

"I think you need some levity in your life. I think…." Jarett considered his words carefully, and then said, "I think you need someone to take care of you."

"Do you know how long I've managed to take care of  _ myself _ ?"

"And that's the problem, isn't it? I think you should let someone take care of you, beyond the servants doing their jobs." He refilled her empty cup with still-steaming tea from the pot.

"And who would do that for me? My brother? Everyone else who leaves at the first opportunity?"

Jarett gave her a hard look as he set the teapot back down. "Cassandra, please."

As she hadn't touched her cutlery or cup in over five minutes, Cassandra looked at her hands folded in her lap, desperately avoiding his gaze. "That's silly."

"Not at all. I'm hoping you will eventually realize you don't need to punish yourself, because you look very tired."

"You're just full of compliments tonight."

"If that was what I believed would help, you would hear an endless stream of them. Is that what you want?"

Cassandra shook her head, opened her mouth, but words would not come. It had been so long that she wanted anything that didn't involve getting out of Whitestone, she had given up on wanting  _ anything _ . Yes, she wanted things, but had simply accepted that she would never get them, internalized the fact so deeply, she couldn't bring herself to ask.

Even the most basic things was a struggle at times, to force the words out when she needed a seam of her coat repaired, or some new pots of ink.

She swallowed hard, her mouth dry. "They gave me anything I wanted," Cassandra said quietly.

"There was a catch."

"I needed new clothes. I grew out of my old ones. They gave me new clothes that they took from people, and I assumed killed because sometimes they had blood on them. My boots…" The tears started to roll slowly down her cheeks. "I wore them for as long as I could. My feet hurt so much. And then it became impossible to fit into them, and I had to ask." With her napkin, Cassandra dabbed at her eyes, not that it stopped the tears; they started coming faster in fact. "I was waiting for them to give me Vesper's, or my mother's. I'm not sure what would have been worse though. It took a very long time.

"I wore three pair of socks because I had nothing else to wear, and the stone was so cold." Cassandra shivered at the memory alone, of the both the cold and the dread. "They gave me a pair of new boots finally, expertly made. I think they were human skin."

In an instant, almost violently, Jarett was out of his chair, at her side, and pulling her up into a hug. "This is exactly why you need someone to take care of you, Cassandra," he whispered with a fierce protectiveness. "This is why you can't punish yourself."

She fought, as best she could, but the simple tears transformed into sobbing that she couldn't control.

"I don't mind a beautiful young woman in my arms, but I hate to have them cry." His hand settled on the back of Cassandra's head, very lightly, cradling almost just her hair. His words were light, but neither of them felt much of it in the moment.

"I-I can't tell anyone," Cassandra began, between taking deep hiccuping breaths, "because I let them kill so many people. No one even cares." Abruptly, violently, she shoved away from him, hitting her back on the table and making the dishes rattle. "And they shouldn't! This is  _ mine _ ! What else can anyone even do for me? Not even Percy-"

She trailed off, breathing heavily, before she turned and moved to the other side of the room. The orange light from the setting sun was comforting, not for the warmth but for its simple existence. It was the only thing that really managed to provide her with comfort over the past months. "It's not fair of me to ask other people for help."

Jarett actually laughed a little then. "I have never had one person tell me that life is fair, nor easy. Very much the opposite, and the harder I fought that idea, the worse I felt. It's not fair to ask others for help? Perhaps not, but it is something people do every day." He crossed the room, his steps almost silent on the thick rug, and stood behind Cassandra without touching her. "Make no mistake, I would like to help you, but if you truly do not wish it…."

After crossing her arms, more for warmth than any attitude, Cassandra shrugged. "I can't. I just told you, I can't ask."

"But you want to?"

She shrugged again, and  _ willed _ him to understand what she wasn't saying, to understand how deeply those shadowy claws of the Briarwoods still gripped her even after they were gone. Cassandra de Rolo was confident that their influence, the direct influence over her, was gone forever, and only Vox Machina had seen her conflict, but if Jarett could read her so easily after such a short time knowing her….

Everyone could see how troubled she was, but they wouldn't know that she was only hurting herself; they would believe she was still untrustworthy and undeserving, and-

Jarett's hands settled on her upper arms, not squeezing or holding, just resting there.

Tension that had been making her chest ache and her neck sore and her temples throb rushed out of her, like a dam had been opened, leaving her relieved and oddly tired. "I'm sorry."

"Here, sit back down."

His hands didn't attempt to guide her; they waited for her to move. "I'd like to enjoy the sunset."

"Mm. Sunsets here are over so quickly. Have you ever been to Marquet?"

"I have never been out of Whitestone." When she'd been younger,  _ before _ , that was fine: Whitestone was a big place, and she'd been more than content. And now, there was too much to do, too much she had to see to. No matter how badly she wanted to leave, even just to visit another city, just to  _ see _ , it was out of the question.

"Outside the city walls of Ank'Harel, the sun sets for what feels like hours. It's very bleak. I like trees."

"I'm not sure how I feel about this place. I… want to leave, but I want to see it be as amazing as I remember thinking it was. When we would go into town for the Winter's Crest festival, and my mother never let go of my hand." She smiled at the memory, warm and relaxed. "I would have run off with my brothers in an instant if she let go."

The warm cookies dusted with sugar; the smell of roasting meat; the sips of steaming cider she was allowed; the lights and decorations making the central square of the city glow from her view at the castle; the gifts given and received….

All those warm memories smothered in blood and shame and grief and regret.

"I don't feel like I'll ever be a whole person again." Cassandra had almost said  _ herself _ , but that had been taken away from her before she'd started to understand who  _ herself  _ was. "I'll have to be like Percy and become someone that was never meant to be."

Jarett's hands squeezed briefly, and his thumbs started to make small circles. "Perhaps. Your brother, though, has done great things and helped so many people. 'Never meant to be' perhaps, but I have come to believe in the reality of the way fate binds us together. Things happen for a reason I think now. You are here for a reason."

It wasn't comforting at all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra will probably never be friends with the Raven Queen, but she's going to be ready to stab someone if necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of thought went into this, way more than necessary I'm sure, but the book and the sword were all specific, conscious decisions. It's flavor more than anything though so the details aren't nearly as important as all the time I went into researching it make it seem.
> 
> Also, surprise appearance!
> 
> (these notes should go at the end)
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.tumblr.com

"I thought about what you said yesterday. About fate."

Jarett took a sip of tea, his eyebrows rising in question.

With her eyes moving from the food on her plate to his face and back again, Cassandra said, "If that's true, then I experienced years of misery for a purpose. A purpose I don't even understand." She took a small bite and chewed it thoroughly while Jarett watched silently.

"To think I suffered for something like that, to look at the town and believe this was for a reason and none of us deserved to understand  _ why _ , let alone any kind of mercy…." Cassandra shook her head, and carefully neutral face slowly turning down into anger. "I don't care at all for a thing that deals in misery and death so easily and on such a wide scale."

Jarett looked away, thoughtful, and chewed on his lip for a moment. He nodded. "I would never judge you for that."

"And if I said I wish I would have died? That 'fate' took that away from me just to prop me up here, for what? Will you tell me, like the others, that that feeling will change and I won't regret living to remember five lost years?" Cassandra picked up her cup, the anger fading so that her features were politely neutral once more. "Mr. Howarth, fate can, if you pardon my language, go fuck itself."

It was obvious immediately that he was desperately attempting not to laugh. His eyes crinkled in mirth, and his lower lip quivered, but he remained quiet.

At least until the corner of Cassandra's mouth rose in a wry smirk and she huffed once in dark humor.

While the full laughter was quelled, Jarett still smiled widely and shook his head at her. "And where does a lady of Whitestone learn such language?"

"Six older siblings, mostly Oliver and Whitney, though Vesper wasn't against the choice bit of language. The ladies of Whitestone were a breed apart, my mother included." The smirk slowly sagged, until it and her eyes read only sadness to her dinner companion. "I don't think anyone understands how difficult it is to live here. Even before the green dragon squatting beneath the castle." She grimaced. "That bitch was sleeping in  _ my _ house. I swear, there are times I want to slap Percy until he can't walk straight."

"Give it time. Vex'ahlia will do it for you, I think."

"That's not the only thing she's doing to him until he can't walk straight."

The silence stretched between them as if they were both surprised by what she'd just said until almost in unison they started to grin, and then they started to laugh.

***

Jarett stood next to Cassandra to watch the sunset the next evening, his shoulder brushing against hers.

"It feels horrible to say," she began even as she was smiling at the view, "but I'm jealous of him. He gets to come and go as he pleases, has friends that fight not just with him, but  _ for  _ him, and he even got himself a girlfriend.  _ Percy _ . Of all people, Percy." Cassandra sighed, but her smile didn't slip, and there's a hint of awe in her voice. "Sometimes I think it means there's hope for me."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Jarett move, but wasn't sure what he was doing until he swept some of her loose hair back and tucked it behind her ear. "You have hope though."

"Like a little girl, which I don't have the luxury of anymore."

"Hope is not childish. Never."

Cassandra leaned against him, head on his shoulder. "I'd like to believe that."

The warmth of Jarett's hand settled briefly in the middle of her back, then moved up to her shoulder to gather her more snugly to his side. "Tell me, anything, how I can help. Please."

If it were only that easy, Cassandra would have told  _ anyone _ , but she didn't know. Thoughts and emotions and nightmares and hopes were so tangled, how to pull them apart without destroying everything was beyond her. So she just settled against him before asking, "Is it warm in Marquet?"

"During the day, but at night it can be quite chilly. Not like here, but for one not used to it, it can come as a surprise."

For a brief moment that Cassandra was fairly sure she felt his breath on her hair, like he might kiss her, but then it faded, and she was no longer sure if it wasn't wishful thinking on her part. "I'm not used to physical affection," she said instead, and it sounded lame even to her. "Not anymore."

Jarett's body shifted, just enough for her to feel that at the first indication from her he would step away.

To answer a question that hadn't been asked, Cassandra said, "Patience." Patience from those around her, and from herself. Time didn't necessarily heal all wounds, but the things she'd suffered didn't heal overnight either.

***

"Am I interrupting?"

"Of course not, My Lady. This batch has graduated to sparring, and soon, I might even give them real weapons."

"Good. That's good." They looked the same as before to Cassandra, but then she wasn't watching every single day. "I was wondering." Her fingers toyed with the pommel of the short sword at her side.

"Yes?"

He might say no because of lack of time, but he wouldn't  _ refuse _ her; she just had to ask. "I'd like if you could, perhaps, help me with my sword skills."

Instantly, easily, he answered, "Of course. Is that what you wish to use?" A vague gesture to the sword at her side.

Indecision gripped Cassandra. "I-I don't know? I have a choice?" Of course she did; she frowned at herself for even asking something so silly. "I mean, I don't know. It's what I have some experience with, but…." It hadn't been by her own choice, and this was what she'd sued against Vox Machina. Cassandra looked up, met Jarett's eyes, and said, "No, it's not actually."

"Oh?" Jarett looked distantly amused by this, but suggested nothing.

"No. I'm not sure I-" Not everything was destroyed by the Briarwoods, even if so much of their family history had been. There were still some books in the library that had been there since she was too young to care about their subject matter. "I want to look something up first." She spun on her heel and walked away with purpose, then paused and looked back over her shoulder. "I'll see you tonight?"

"Of course." Jarett tipped an imaginary hat and smiled.

~

They were old, but well cared for, and Cassandra pulled each one out with care until she found the one she was looking for. Pulling back the cloth revealed a leather-bound book without any sort of title on it. Opening it to the first page revealed a carefully written and illustrated tome about the sword techniques of some city she'd never heard of before.

The men depicted wore odd armor, and large hats adorned with feathers rather than helmets, but that was a simple curiosity and not what she was interested in. It was more about the weapons they were holding, roughly the same size as the short sword at her side, but curved.

It was very much like the sword she remembered her mother wearing, and one very clear memory Cassandra had of her mother: she wouldn't wear a sword if she didn't know how to use it.

Closing the book again and covering it with the cloth, Cassandra went back to her room to read uninterrupted. She wasn't sure if hunting for her mother's old things was worth the effort, since she was the only one that would know the best places to look, and was thinking she had better things to do than search the castle.

At least now. Later she would make the time, because there was no telling what had been hidden away just for purposes of storage.

But those were thoughts not for the moment. They deserved her full concentration, just as the book in her hands did.

~

A knock on her door had her looking up, blinking rapidly. The room had gotten much darker than when she'd started, and Cassandra hadn't even noticed. "Yes?" she answered and closed the book carefully with a scrap of parchment to keep her place.

"My apologies," Jarett said as he opened the door just enough to see her. "You were not in the sitting room for dinner."

As if in hearty agreement, Cassandra's stomach growled, and she set the large tome aside. "I suppose I have. The book captured my attention quite thoroughly," she replied lightly, feeling that lightness as well for the first time in quite a while.

Jarett held out his arm. "Please, allow me to escort you as is appropriate for your station."

Shaking her head with pleased chagrin, Cassandra hooked her arm through his. "Because I know you won't leave me alone about eating something if I don't."

"Of course. And if you my presence bothers you, you only tell me. I won't bother you further."

Cassandra gave him an unamused look as they exited her room. "You know I-"

"Be that as it may."

Her arm tightened around his ever so slightly as they continued to walk and she kept her gaze forward. It wasn't exactly a power struggle between them. There was no mistaking and no delusion about who was ultimately in charge, but he knew things about her now, understood her a little better in a way that gave him an advantage. It was tricky, but Cassandra supposed that's what relationships, even just friendly ones, were like. Gods knew her relationship with Percy was as complicated as one could be, but they managed somehow.

_ Because he's never around. _

It was a dark thought, one that clouded her mood. Yes, she was jealous of him being able to come and go as he pleased, with none of the dull responsibilities of Whitestone, but….

"Troubled thoughts?"

At her startled look, Jarett explained, "You get a crease, just here." He ran his finger gently between her brows to the bridge of her nose. "I've seen many of your moods, and it is the only time it appears."

"I don't have my brother's ability to hide my intentions, I suppose." She'd never needed to; the Briarwoods had taken any intention away from her, leaving her without any agency, without a purpose of her own. Was it lying if she felt  _ nothing _ ? Without thinking too much on it, because it was unproductive and invariably sent her into a dark spiral of self-loathing, Cassandra leaned into Jarett.

His warmth managed to drive away the dark thoughts for the time being.

"As selfish as I may be, taking dinner with you for my own benefit, there is something I wish to discuss."

"Hm?"

"The two boys: Hunin and Kyor."

And her mood had been improving.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even if Cassandra can't fix herself, there's several things she can work on instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, here's where that research shows up. And it's not even specific. Just know that I did it.
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.tumblr.com

It took Cassandra two days of searching, receiving odd looks from the staff for walking the halls in dirty trousers, scuffed boots, and a leather vest with cobwebs on the shoulders, but she found it. It had been surprising no one had heard her exclamation of triumph really.

The secret passages built into the castle were meant for safety and security, not for a child's romp, so they didn't always lead anywhere. It was in the one through the fireplace in her mother's parlor that she finally found it. It was silly, because why hadn't that been the first place to look? Especially since the room itself was in disuse so the fireplace itself was cold and clean.

Cassandra considered fetching a pair of guards at first, but she couldn't think of two she trusted with this secret. In time, perhaps, but not at the moment, so she only brought out what she could carry and would need.

The belt felt a bit strange, being wider, and the scabbard itself heavier. The sword needed some care, but it didn't look or feel fragile when she held it, when she swung it through the empty air. The dagger was something to behold, and maybe of everything left behind, it was the thing she was most glad nobody had found. The idea of one of the Briarwoods, or one of their horrible underlings, using it was enough to make her feel vaguely ill.

It was finely crafted, with ornate designs engraved on the blade in such detail Cassandra couldn't imagine the skill it took to make them at such a small size. The grip itself was wrapped in fine leather, that could use a little oil, but wasn't beyond salvaging, and the pommel was a solid platinum knob. Pelor's sun was engraved in the bottom of it and a sapphire was set into the center. The scabbard was tarnished brass and cracked leather, but easily repairable. 

It didn't match the sword and had most likely been a gift, but that didn't change the beauty of it. And as Cassandra ran her thumb over the edge of the blade, it was immediately evident that it wasn't in the least ceremonial.

Her mother had been armed to stab a person if necessary, albeit with beauty and class.

*

"M-My Lady! Forgive me! I had no idea you were coming out here today!"

Cassandra waved off the apology. That kind of treatment didn't sit right with her; she hadn't earned a drop of respect from these people. "Please, when you have time, I'd like you to clean these blades and repair the scabbard, or replace if you need to. These were…." She swallowed past the unexpected lump in her throat. "These were my mother's."

Instantly, the swordsmith's demeanor changed. His volume lowered and he looked far less nervous. He took the sword and dagger almost in awe. "Of course. I'll get started as soon as I have a moment." First he set aside the dagger to look over the sword, carefully pulling it from the scabbard. "This won't take long. Simple, functional, still in good shape."

Then the dagger, that he treated much more delicately. "The brass just needs to be cleaned, but the leather will have to be replaced," he informed her, never taking his eyes from the object in his hands. Then he pulled out the blade, and a smile curled across his dry, cracked lips. "Beautiful. It hardly even needs to be cleaned."

"Take as long as you need. Do you know if there's anything… similar that I could use to practice with?" As much as she wanted to use that sword and dagger, to use them in the dirt and weather of the training yard would be an insult to her mother's memory.

The swordsmith paused, bushy brows furrowing, and squinted in Cassandra's general direction. "I think there may be. I haven't taken a proper look at what's there, only at what they bring me to repair."

"Of course. Thank you, and take good care of these."

"I will." He bowed, then set both weapons on a clean workbench away from the forge.

Cassandra was reluctant to let the dagger especially out of her sight, but she didn't want to make people feel like she didn't trust them. If Jarett trusted this man, then she shouldn't doubt him.

~

Cassandra ate, lost in thought as she stared blankly over Jarett's shoulder.

As soon as Jarett opened his mouth to comment on it, she said, "There's not much left of my father's, so I was considering putting my mother's armor on display." Because that consideration turned down a path of all the other little things she'd ignored about the castle, mostly because they still hurt to think about while using the excuse there were dragons to worry about. However valid it was, now she couldn't put aside the act of truly reclaiming Whitestone for her family.

Even if she was the last one, if Percy never came back (because he  _ chose  _ to, not because he was dead), this would always be her home, the family home. Guilt at failing them, not just the city now, was picking at her, roused by finding her mother's things and reading her father's books. None of those things that she found important had any place of importance in the castle, and that wasn't right.

"I've neglected the castle. It's not a fancy place, compared to other castles and palaces I know must exist, but now it's mine. And I suppose it's the one thing that can't judge me."

Jarett remained silent, but without the questioning look on his face, content to let her speak her thoughts.

Tapping her fork against the side of her plate absently, looking now, and not staring, at the fireplace, she continued, "I think I need to increase the staff, at least temporarily, to get things back in shape." She pointed suddenly. "The fireplace. The mantle. It's bare. Look at this room, look at the mantle. It's as if nobody lives here and it's all just for show."

Cassandra shook her head. "I'm tired of putting on a show. I'm tired of  _ lying _ . I've been doing it for so long, I get confused about what actually happened sometimes." There was a tension in her, unlike the misery she normally felt when thinking about what had happened, like she was ready to rip the truth away from the lies, but without an outlet for it all. "Deeds."

That was it.

"I have to prove it, to everyone, that I want things to be better." Because she did want things to be better, and at least if everyone else believed it, then maybe they'd forgive her for letting things get so terrible in the first place.

"I can tell by the look on your face, you are being too hard on yourself again." Now Jarett was looking at her with something close to pity.

It was infuriating. Pity was the last thing she wanted; Cassandra understood the silent accusations and disgust people had for her, but why anyone would pity her was beyond her. "Don't. Don't pity me. If the truth is hard, then I suppose I need to toughen up."

"Maybe. And I suppose I do pity you, a little, but not for who you are, because there is no denying the success-" He wagged his finger at her when she frowned. "-you are having here. No, I pity the girl you were, who had everything torn away from her. That is something I can't imagine."

Cassandra maintained her frown, and crossed her arms. "And it's too late to go back and do anything about it, so what's the point of pity?"

"There is no  _ point _ to it. Is that where you are? That everything someone says to you and feels for you must have a point? Because that is an unpleasant way to exist." He put his hand to his chin, rubbing at the dark stubble growing in, before tilting his head to one side and arching an eyebrow. "I hope you fought them half as fiercely as you are now."

All the fire and wind was tamped down to nothing in her, because: "I couldn't. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't." Without thinking, her fingertips settled over the poorly healed scar beneath her collarbone on her left side. "I couldn't."

Being put into Ripley's "care" had left her with very prominent scars, which hadn't bothered the Briarwoods at all. They only wanted her alive. Sometimes, Cassandra dreamed of that feeling as the arrow was forced from her back out through her chest, and it was why her shoulder ached randomly at times. "I was-"

"There is no need to explain, not to me. I don't think you need to explain to anyone, but perhaps it soothes you to do so. But not to me. So please, do what you feel will  _ help _ ." Jarett smiled, genuine, showing just enough of his teeth to be disarming even.

"I hate it when you smile at me."

"Do you?" He was still smiling; he knew what her answer would be.

"No." But none of that was what had started the conversation, and Cassandra hadn't forgotten that. "But that's not what I was talking about, and you need to stop distracting me." She was going to power through this, and not give Jarett the chance to interrupt her. "So what I would like you to do, because I trust you in the matter, is to hire perhaps six people to help with the menial tasks around the castle. I've let it go too long without the proper attention, dragons or no."

"In the morning then."

"And then in the afternoon…?"

Jarett smiled and actually licked his lips as he leaned forward, elbows on the table, either side of his plate. "I think this will be very fun."

Narrowing her eyes in challenge, Cassandra replied carefully, "I agree."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra trains. Cassandra bathes. Cassandra hates her hair. But wow does Jarett smell good.
> 
> A wild Kyor and Hunin appear.
> 
> (No April Fool's jokes.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very minor warning for the mention of objectification of a minor (ogling specifically, the rest is left to your imagination), and unhealthy coping mechanisms (scrubbing skin to a damaging degree).
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.tumblr.com

It wasn't quite as inspiring as she'd pictured. At her side was a short sword, completely devoid of elegance and style, as she stood in the mud of the training yard. The padded armor was a nightmarish combination of stink, weight, and heat, and it was scratchy wherever it came into contact with her skin. "Does this ever get cleaned?"

Jarett was smiling, but it was his "professional" smile, and was more intimidating. But only directed to her. "When it rains. Now." He turned to the other two standing slightly behind Cassandra. "I expect you two to become comfortable holding a weapon. One day, it may save your life."

The two boys looked frightened; they always looked frightened, no matter how much Cassandra tried to convince them they were safe here.

"Come on, boys. Ready your weapons!" Jarett looked to Cassandra. "You as well, Lady Cassandra."

She drew the short sword with confidence and held it at the ready. Her other hand itched to hold either dagger or shield, but they were starting at the bottom here; it was just her this shitty practice sword to start.

"Look at Cassandra," Jarett instructed the boys after glancing her over and giving a short nod.

Cassandra had never seen Jarett with a sword in his hand. When he was actually on duty, he carried his crossbow, and here in the yard he normally went empty-handed. To see him now with the same sword she was holding, to see the pose he struck for Hunin and Kyor to copy was like a revelation.

He'd always carried himself with casual ease; this was the first time she'd seen him look ready for a fight. Also, Cassandra hadn't seen him assume the role of an instructor, not like this. Even though she had to turn her head, breaking the form he dictated, she couldn't help but watch him.

It was more ridiculous, to her logical mind, because he was doing basic things; there was nothing impressive about any of it in itself. The feeling was hard to describe, because there wasn't any real desire as she imagined it would be, but… admiration? Appreciation certainly.

"Are you paying attention?" he snapped at her, eyes narrowed.

The boys were both standing, looking like reluctant but prepared soldiers with their swords at the ready.

"Too much," Cassandra replied quietly, almost smirking, before taking the instructed stance.

~

"You broke a sweat. I didn't know that was possible." They all had, but it wasn't a surprise that Cassandra or the boys had. Jarett, on the other hand….

He offered her a damp cloth. "It has been quite a while since I had to deal with a bunch this feisty."

At that Cassandra laughed, taking the cloth and wiping it across the back of her neck. "A group of three, doing exactly what you tell them is feisty?"

"All it takes is a group of one if that one is you."

"Mr. Howarth," she began, a note of feigned indignity in her voice, "you had my full attention, I assure you. You were very good with the boys."

Regardless of her quick change of subject, Jarett's eyes eyes never lost their playful intensity as he moved smoothly on with the discussion. "They are eager to learn, even if Kyor holds the sword like you might hold a rotting vegetable."

Feeling bold, and tired, and just pleased in general, Cassandra used the cloth still in hand to wipe a smudge of dirt from Jarett's temple. "It's not for everyone, not when there other choices. I'm much more used to siblings who are nothing alike than those who are." She let the cloth follow the strong line of Jarett's cheekbone, then down his jaw and neck, to slide just inside the open neck of his linen shirt.

His hand closed over her own, holding it in place. "You noticed as well then."

"Contrary to what people may think, I  _ have _ taken responsibility for them, since nobody else seems to want to." Somehow she had to stop being so bitter about her brother. "Perhaps Vex will move them into her  _ house _ if she ever bothers-" Cassandra closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm not mad, just frustrated." Whether she was explaining herself to Jarett or convincing herself, she wasn't sure.

"I never questioned that, any of it. You are doing more than I have."

"You went and fought a dragon. I've stayed here and started to decorate."

He lifted her hand from his chest to his lips, pressed something that couldn't truly even be considered a kiss to the rough skin of her knuckles. "You have kept a city full of frightened people alive."

_ His lips are so soft. _

"It was hardly anything to do with my efforts," she said as she turned away, frowning to herself. "Surprise, thanks to Vox Machina this-"

"But without you, the people would be rudderless."

That was a lie. She knew it, but Cassandra wasn't sure if Jarett was aware how much influence Yennen and Archibald had. That didn't bother her really; they'd  _ always _ been there for the city and its people, longer than she'd been alive. They were the ones that deserved the respect, that should be holding gatherings in the castle's great hall. "It doesn't even matter, because I owe so much to so many. I'm merely a de Rolo figurehead, and not even a very good one."

"This is where you are wrong, but I think, at this moment, we can let that go. We need to clean up before dinner." His hand didn't release hers.

It was better this way, to not have this conversation out in the open. Cassandra could feel her thread of control slipping due to her physical exhaustion; her emotions were starting to tilt, and she didn't want to lose it where everyone would see. The staff knew she had  _ issues _ , but she kept most of it behind a closed door where they didn't see. "These conversations are bad for my image," she said quietly, managing a smile even though she didn't feel much like it. "It makes me look… unstable."

"Of course. My apologies." He bowed his head, lowering his eyes, and holding that position.

It made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. "It's fine. Just not out here. Please, don't do that. I don't d-"

"I made a choice to stay here in Whitestone," Jarett said, standing straight while still holding her hand. "I made a choice to make it my home, and pledged to protect it. I have pledged to serve and protect  _ you _ . I am not here to judge you; I am here to help. So."

She was shaking now.

"We will talk more over dinner."

~

Cassandra sat in the fragrant steaming water, head pillowed on a thick cloth draped over the side of the large tub. She'd pinned her hair up quickly, unwilling to have anyone assist her other than preparing the water, and was unconcerned about what she'd missed trailing in the water at her shoulders. Her hair wasn't something she thought of more than absolutely necessary. The white streaks were just reminders, had been from the moment they'd started to grow out.

Delilah, touching her hair, commenting on it, telling her how pretty it was.

Anders eyeing her, staring at her hair, then dragging his gaze down her body.

Yennen, reminded just as she was, whenever he saw her, and pursing his lips, just barely stopping himself from shaking his head.

And maybe what hurt most of all, Percy showing up with  _ his _ reminder of what he'd gone through.

She couldn't even use the defense of nobody being able to relate to her.

At least she was finally able to take a bath without scrubbing her skin raw. As long as she avoided perfume, bathing and dressing no longer roused the desire to burn all her clothing and destroy any mirror she caught her reflection in. It was progress, some might even say she was healing, but Cassandra didn't really feel like it.

It was a better situation, but she didn't feel better. This life was too complicated.

A soft knock, then the voice of Ava thought the door: "Dinner in the sitting room again, My Lady?"

As much as sitting in a relaxing bath for the next week sounded nice, the water would turn tepid, her skin would prune, and the air would grow cold and clammy. "Yes, please. I'll be there when I'm done."

There were times when she thought giving up the relative ease of this life, as  _ the  _ Lady of Whitestone, would actually make things easier for her. To be responsible only for her own survival, with nobody asking for instruction or her opinion, people just leaving her be because they didn't trust her. That would be fine, really.

Or if Percy would just come back and  _ stay _ . He was one of the saviors of Emon; this was rightfully his place, his seat in the great hall. He was the one people believed in and trusted.

But it was not to be. This was going to be her burden.

~

There was an empty plate in front of Jarett when Cassandra made it to the parlor.

"Didn't wait for me?" She slid into the chair opposite his, tucking her robe beneath her legs. Getting fully dressed after her bath, just for dinner, and at a time later than normal seemed like too much trouble. She felt safe in Jarett's presence, so her relative state of undress wasn't worrying.

"You seemed occupied. I was not entirely sure you would make it."

"I debated it," she admitted, filling her plate with barely warm food, "but didn't want to abandon you. You wouldn't abandon me."

"Of course not." Playful and sincere, it wasn't just his physical presence that was comforting.

There was no denying that the food in Whitestone was, in general, bland. That was why Cassandra couldn't help but smell what was certainly Jarett, and not the food. It was not something she'd noticed before, but perhaps…. "May I ask you something?"

He smiled, even laughing a little. "Of course you may. Without knowing the question, how can I tell you not to ask it?"

Yes, naturally, that was stupid to ask. Why was she suddenly so flustered? "Did you bathe before coming here?"

Unbothered, he replied, "Yes. I was able to find a merchant that had come from Marquet and-."

"In Whitestone?" Merchants hadn't come from Westruun in ages, let alone as far away as Marquet.

At that, Jarett grinned and nodded. "The next time one arrives, I will simply have to drag you from this castle to see what is on offer. But as I was saying before you interrupted-"

Cassandra raised her eyebrows.

"-I found a soap that I will save for… indulging myself." He looked so pleased with himself as he took a sip of tea.

Properly curious now, Cassandra stood and moved her chair next to his, only vaguely mindful of the way the robe opened to reveal a generous portion of her legs. But his eyes didn't move lower than her shoulders once as she settled next to him.

"Your dinner?"

"It'll still be there. Now tell me about this soap. It smells… intriguing." What Cassandra wanted to do was put her nose right to his bare skin and  _ inhale _ .


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Cassandra's training, Jarett suggests something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "suggests" *wink*
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.tumblr.com

The first thing the next morning, while Cassandra was eating breakfast in the dining hall, Jarett walked in and bowed.

"A gift for you, My Lady." He held out his hand, with no other greeting or beginning of chit-chat, and presented her with a small object tied up in rough cloth and string.

She stared at him for a moment, confused, then reached out and gingerly removed the object from his hand. It was light, with hardly any weight at all, and no identifying size or shape. She had no clue what it could be, coming so unexpectedly.

Jarett, once the item was removed from his possession completely, bowed deeply. "My Lady." Anyone else would have waited for her reply, but he just flashed her a quick smile and left as speedily as he'd appeared.

Once Cassandra managed to recover from the confusion of the moment, not sure she would ever wholly understand Jarett Howarth, she untied the string. Immediately, the smell brought a wide smile to her face. Inside was a small sliver of the mysterious soap of Jarett's. It was hardly enough to even wash her face with, but the smell was strong, filling her nose with its exotic scent.

She re-tied the strong and tucked the whole thing away into a pocket of her fur-trimmed over-robe, then tucked back in to her breakfast.

~

It was morbid, maybe, but since there was no way in the Nine Hells she was going to sleep there, Cassandra had started to turn her parents' bedroom into something vaguely resembling a shrine to her family. Really though, it was just a gussied up storage room for all of the things Cassandra wanted to keep in a place of honor.

In the corner, if she ever needed it again, was her mother's armor, cleaned and shining. It was the most prominent thing because there was so little else left of them to fill the room. The sword and dagger were hung above the fireplace, both blades and scabbards gleaming in the sunlight coming through the window after being repaired and cleaned. Though she didn't plan on wearing the armor except for an emergency, the weapons she absolutely  _ did. _

Maybe only for ceremonial purposes, but she would wear them with pride.

Now, as her father and mother, and Julius, had, it was her turn to find armor that represented Whitestone, her family name,  _ and _ herself. Not for the first time, and probably not the last, she wished Percy were there; he was so good with those things, always into studying heraldry and crests, and all the other things a 12 year old girl had no interest in.

She'd had the partially burned picture framed and hung in here, mostly as a different way to torture herself, knowing once the faces in her memory faded, there were no reminders to refresh it.

Of course she'd never be able to forget the faces of the Briarwoods. If only she'd been able to use that sword on Delilah, maybe none of it would hurt so much. It wasn't for the revenge, but just… She didn't even know. The symbolism maybe. But none of it even mattered, because that was all history, and Cassandra just wanted those thoughts to  _ leave her alone _ .

They always led to this internal debate about whether she should spend more time in here, or if it caused her to dwell on the past too much. That she knew was dangerous, because time would just slip away, and then she'd want to stay and abandon her life. Seeing herself living in this room, it was a possibility, and it didn't sit well.

Nothing had been accomplished so far today, but being in this room had given her some ideas, a direction to go, as if she didn't already have twenty other things to do, but this was personal.

And she still had the little wrapped gift from Jarett with her.

*

The padded armor smelled no better than it had the previous day. In fact, Cassandra thought it smelled worse, but she was the only one wrinkling her nose at it, so made no comment. There was something comical about seeing the boys in the somewhat oversized gear, but Cassandra had also seen them start to fill out with a steady diet.

By the fit of her dresses though, she was starting to fill out as well. While the boys needed it, she didn't, and was starting to reconsider having a full dinner every night. With her free left hand, Cassandra smoothed down the armor across her mid-section. Perhaps if she trained more vigorously, she'd put a stop to it before it got to be too noticeable.

"You are failing to pay attention again!" Jarett barked. He used the flat of his training blade to swat her in the thigh.

The gloves were off; dinner would be interesting, assuming she could make it there with the way her leg was stinging.

~

Cassandra limped and didn't try to hide it. It was fine, she was fine, but she was certainly questioning dinner this evening. Maybe this time it would be a bath and then straight to bed.

It solidified her decision when, on the way to the bath, she crossed Ava's path. She grabbed the young woman's sleeve to get her attention to Cassandra's face rather than on the limp. "Could you bring a small plate up here. I think I'm skipping dinner in the sitting room tonight. And if… if you see Mr. Howarth, could you tell him that as well?"

Ava curtsied and bowed her head. "Of course, My Lady."

As much as Cassandra had tried, she'd never been able to get her to stop that. She could only counter it with her own unfailing politeness. "Thank you."

The water felt nice when she finally slipped into it, soothing the pain in her leg and the rest of her sore muscles. She was competent with the sword, but she'd never worked so diligently with it before, or working for such precision. Jarett was a merciless instructor in exactly the way she'd expected, and she smiled to herself as she relaxed in the oversized tub.

Ava's soft knock interrupted her blissful state of simple  _ existence _ , and Cassandra answered without opening her eyes, "Come in."

"Your dinner, My Lady."

Cassandra knew she'd set the tray on the small table just behind and to the left of her head, then leave just as quickly and quietly. "Thank you, and you're excused for the rest of the night."

The footsteps as she left were whisper quiet, and Cassandra was alone again.

Even though she'd grown up with such a large family, spending so long wanting more than anything to be left alone only to be followed by people constantly staring, solitude was easy and comforting. It wasn't  _ always _ what she wanted, but it was the simplest option. What else could she do realistically?

Her only friends when she'd been younger were her siblings. Now who did she have?

_ Jarett _ .

Well, yes, she believed that he could be counted as a friend, but she'd asked something of him that made the relationship awkward. Until that was resolved, one way or another, Cassandra wasn't sure she'd be able to truly count him as a friend. Motivations of other people were so dangerous,

How did a person learn to trust? How could she?

And really, it was a little too late to  _ not _ trust Jarett. She'd told him everything there was to know about her; to not trust him now….

"Stupid. So stupid." This was the exact reason Percy should be here and not her. She wasn't even clever enough to protect and take care of herself, let alone a city.

Instead of indulging further in the bath, finishing her dinner there, Cassandra was done. She'd eat in her room instead, and probably spend a night sleepless and twisting her failings over and over in her head.

Cassandra scrubbed her face with her hands hard, trying to force the tension out, before she exited the tub. There was her usual post-bath ritual she'd developed and hadn't gotten out of just yet, but with the developing bruise on her thigh and slightly sour mood, she abandoned it. The only thing she did, after drying herself but before putting on her robe, was to apply the healing oil to the scars she could reach.

A few drops were massaged into the ragged pucker on the right side of her chest, and then a few more into the gnarled mass of scar tissue on her neck. They looked better, but would most likely never disappear completely. They would always be there, waiting for her in the mirror, a personal gift left to her by the Briarwoods.

No matter how far away she got from Whitestone, those monsters would follow her.

She put on her robe, tucked her feet into the warm slippers waiting for her, and headed to her room with her dinner tray. Though it was still relatively early, the halls were empty and silent. The rakshasa scare had been, quite frankly, though not that she'd admit to Vox Machina, not her worry. The elevated guard presence kept after that and because of the Chroma Conclave threat had been scaled back immediately after the threat was gone.

They still hadn't fixed that wall to her satisfaction.

"My Lady."

Stopping just short of her door, Cassandra turned. She tried to school her features to appear dismissive, but could feel how tired her eyes were to give away her true feelings. "Mr. Howarth."

Dressed in the colors of the Pale Guard minus armor, Jarett bowed. "I have something for you."

"Another gift?"

With a sigh and sheepish smile, he shook his head. "It is more of an apology. I should never have struck you."

"Oh stop. It's nothing that won't heal, and you were right. I wasn't paying full attention. I  _ prefer _ to be treated no better than anyone else standing in the training yard." Cassandra smiled, her darker thoughts pushed to the back of her mind, especially upon seeing Jarett in uniform. "I was just about to retire for the night. Come in."

Her door was easy enough to open, with a little practice, with her elbow hitting and releasing the latch to allow her to push it open with her arm. "I have no secrets in here. I think I've told all of them to you anyway."

"As you wish."

"I wish you wouldn't put it that way. Only come in if you'd like to, not taken as an order." She held the door for him in invitation. "Besides, I'd rather talk in here than in the hallway, thank you."

She held the door for him as he walked in slowly, almost hesitantly, eyes roaming the room for threats rather than personal details. Only when he was sure they were alone and the room was utterly mundane, did he relax. "As I was saying, this is not a courtesy I normally extend to trainees," he said as Cassandra shut the door and placed the tray on the table next to the window.

"You know I don't want special treatment like that. And I hope you had dinner; I didn't mean to cancel ours on such short notice." It was only then, when she could look at him without the distraction of being in the hallway, and holding the tray, and getting the door did she see he was holding something in his hand. Instantly her eyes ticked to the bed, the pillow that she had tucked his earlier gift beneath so that she'd fall asleep to the scent.

"I know, but for them, these kinds of injuries are part of the training. For you, it was excessive. So I have this." Holding his hand up, a plain, unlabeled jar was revealed in the fire and candle light.

"Is it a potion?"

"No, a simple salve. Nothing magical at all in it, just an ointment made from plants."

"Well, it can't hurt, can it?" And though she wouldn't tell Jarett, her legs was quite uncomfortable now that she was out of the warmth of the bath.

"Not in my experience. Now here." He crossed the room, set the jar on the table with the tray, and as Cassandra was reaching for it, he moved the entire table away from her.

"Wha-"

And then he got down on one knee in front of her.

"Jarett, what-"

"I will apply it for you."

That was the end of any sort of debate on the matter.

"Now," he said, looking at her, and taking hold of her foot, "if this makes you uncomfortable, you must tell me." Then he set her foot on his knee so her injured leg was raised. "This is the leg, yes? You favored it when you walked."

Cassandra nodded, eyes wide as she felt the rough warmth of his hands briefly on her ankle.

"Good." That warmth returned as he looked down at her foot and started speaking again, but with more thought and hesitance. "Have you considered your request further?" A brief glance to her face, then back down.

"I-I suppose I haven't. I've been… waiting for something to let me know it wouldn't be a colossal mistake." He cupped the back of her leg and make her take a sharp breath. "There hasn't been an answer either way so far, but then I'm not really expecting any kind of divine answer."

Cassandra's robe, that had stayed obediently shut until this point, slid from her leg, revealing it up to the knee. Her bony, scraped knee, still bearing the marks from when she was a rambunctious girl. Everything about her was unlovely, and she was silently mortified this was happening.

Mortified, but not displeased exactly. It was complicated and would take too long to understand while Jarett's hands were sliding up her calf and leaving gooseflesh in their wake. Maybe this was the answer she'd been waiting for.

"This is not a matter for gods to decide. Only you. But," he continued as one hand, his darker skin fascinating against her pale, rubbed her knee, " _ this _ is for your injury. We may have a discussion, but that is all."

It was hard to decide is she should be angry or not here. It felt like he was toying with her, and that was something she didn't react well to, but it was also understandable. Well, not that he was toying with her, but that he would want to talk about it and-

Cassandra shivered, almost violently, when his fingers brushed across the hyper-sensitive skin at the back of her knee.

"Show me the harm I caused you."

With her hand shaking, Cassandra started to shift aside one half of her robe, revealing her thigh. Gripping her other leg tightly, holding the other half of her robe in place to cover the rest of herself, her eyes were fixed on Jarett's hand following the path of bared flesh.

Once the discolored and swollen area was exposed, and if any word described how she felt more perfectly than exposed someone needed to find it and tell her, he skimmed it lightly with just his fingertips.

"This is unacceptable. I never should have-"

Somehow, Cassandra found her voice; though it was hardly more than a whisper, difficult to hear above the quiet crackling in the fireplace, it was enough to interrupt him. "It'll heal."

Jarett cleared his throat before nodding. "Still, I will never forgive myself."

"I forgive you."

It felt dangerous between them, this situation, when he looked to her. His thumb was making small circles just on the edge of the bruise, and Cassandra couldn't form a coherent thought outside that sensation.

She let her eyes fall close as her heart started thudding in her chest. Certainly it must have been audible at this distance, but she could barely care what he thought of her at the moment. Even the pain when he began massaging, lightly, at the bruise couldn't dampen the rising heat in her belly, and her face.  _ Yes _ , she wanted to tell him.

_ Yes, I want it more than anything _ , she wanted to say, but she bit hard down on her lip and the only sound that escaped was a small whimper.

"There." Jarett's voice was quiet and rough, and when Cassandra opened her eyes, he was looking at her with such an intensity, she had no idea what to do. "It will help to apply this for another few days."

Cassandra nodded, not trusting her voice or what words might come from her mouth.

"No training for you tomorrow, but dinner-"

"Yes."

Yes  _ everything _ .


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra is coming to some realizations. They're not simplifying her life though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late posting because I was uselessly sick yesterday (still sick, slightly more functionality today).
> 
> One of my little ideas (poor kids need some direction) for Hunin and Kyor makes an appearance here. Not sure how often they'll appear going forward, but couldn't ignore them completely. I'm not Vox Machina after all.
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.fandom.com

She'd never had dreams like that before, and woke up more surprised than anything. And surprised how vivid it was when most of her dreams were shadowy ghosts that faded upon waking except for the lingering sorrow and dread.

No, this she remembered very clearly, no matter that it was nonsensical. Jarett holding her hand as he lead her through the crumbling ruins of a beautiful castle (not Whitestone though, she knew), never speaking once. The overgrowth made the place exquisite, with large colorful flowers sprouting up from between ruined tiling, and vines growing up the walls. Large windows of stained glass cast shimmering jeweled shapes on the walls as they walked through the halls.

Most of all, she remembered the bath, just in the middle of the hall. It was large enough for two people, but smaller than those in Whitestone, making it far more intimate.

Under other circumstances, Cassandra might have wondered what her brain was trying to tell her. Under  _ these _ circumstances, as he lead her to it and she followed willingly, it was all very clear.

*

The limp was still with her, but not quite as pronounced, as she finished breakfast and headed up to catch on some overdue work. Not much would probably get done with such an interesting distraction at the forefront of her mind, but it made the work itself tolerable.

A knock on the door interrupted her read-through of a proposal that had been rejected before, and then reworked to be more favorable in Whitestone's favor. Some of the smaller coastal cities to the south had remained mostly unaffected by the dragons, and negotiating for food and other miscellaneous supplies was critical.

But she was not going to allow the city to be taken advantage of; they weren't that bad off.

"Come in," she said as she put her signature on the document, then applied her seal in wax.

"Keeper Yennen, My Lady."

"I just signed it," Cassandra declared before he had the chance to say anything. "If only we'd gotten more refugees that fished."

Yennen made an unimpressed noise, something she was used to, and crossed his arms before he sat in the chair on the opposite side of her desk. "I'm happy to hear that, but that's not why I've come."

Wonderful.  _ Think of stained glass windows. _ "What do you need then?"

"I know it's still some time away, but with Percival's rash decision-making-"

"The Grey Hunt." That had been something she'd been putting off too, even with Winter's Crest months and months away. "Yes." Cassandra exhaled and tried to relax, to give Yennen more benefit of the doubt. They didn't need to like one another to make things work. "You have some insight?"

Because she was ready to admit he had more experience in the past with the Hunt, and having been with a Master or Mistress for so long, this would be extra special. In this matter, she would follow Yennen's lead.

The relaxation of not just his shoulders, but the lines of his face, didn't go unnoticed. He'd come expecting a fight from her.

Cassandra was more than happy to buck those expectations, and all the while that dream would be prominently on her mind.

*

From this distance, just observing but easily within sight, Kyor really did look like he regarded the sword as something unpleasant to the touch. But he was there, and looking determined. Hunin looked even more determined somehow, his pale eyes narrowed with every swing of the sword. Once Kyor was proficient enough to defend himself, no doubt Jarett would excuse him, but Hunin looked like he might remain for more until he was ready to train under whatever master he might prefer.

In fact, Jarett spent more of his time working with Kyor, perhaps in an effort to get him prepared  so he could move on to whatever he was truly interested in. The boy was wild, put everything he had into each swing, and had zero control. No, Kyor was not able to defend himself currently, not at all.

When Jarett sidestepped one of these swings and Kyor almost fell face first into the mud, Cassandra winced.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

~

Hunin was actually smiling through the dirt and sweat on his face as he removed the padded armor. Kyor looked… not quite distressed, but not happy.

Cassandra waited until they were leaving to walk next to Kyor and say, "It's fine. A sword isn't for everyone." She braved putting an arm around his shoulders, and was so pleased when he didn't shrink away from the contact, she forgot what she was going to say.

"I don't like it," the boy said quietly.

_ He was almost her age. She had to stop thinking of him as a boy. _

_ Even if it was true. _

"I don't want to kill anyone."

"I'll protect you," Hunin declared, and in an outburst he'd never displayed the likes of before, mimicked slashing a sword through the air.

It fell into place right there for her, and Cassandra understood perfectly what was going on with Hunin. "There is a fair difference between protecting yourself and killing someone," Cassandra said evenly though there was a lump in her throat.

He looked at her, almost her same height now. "Have you ever killed someone?"

"Yes, once." Directly, but that was too complicated to explain in the moment. Maybe she would eventually, as part of the history of Whitestone, because there was no way to  _ not _ include it in the history of the castle and city. "I didn't feel good about it, but…."

"You had to do it?"

Looking at him, she couldn't lie. "No, I didn't, but I felt like I had to. It's complicated. Killing someone is always complicated." For a moment, Cassandra thought about pointing them to talk to Vox Machina, but that would probably only do more harm than good. "Complicated," she repeated weakly.

At least Kyor looked thoughtful at her feeble explanation. Either of them looking anything other than scared or meek was a good thing.

"Why don't you two get yourselves cleaned up?" Because she really didn't know what else they did; hopefully they were getting some sort of schooling, and that was one more thing to add to her list.

A city was one thing. Two vulnerable boys  _ living in the castle _ was something completely different, and something she should be more aware of than the planting and harvesting schedule.

"Yes, Lady Cassandra," they answered in unison.

*

Cassandra ate her dinner in small bites, because that was the best way to drag the meal out and avoid talking. The food was fine, what she was used to, but she didn't really think much of it. Her thoughts were rooted in that dream, and Jarett's hands on her leg, and the slow flip of her stomach when she thought about that bath in her dream.

"I should make you a meal," he said out of the blue, and when she looked up, he was watching her thoughtfully. "You might not care for it, but it would be something different."

"Don't care for the local fare?" she asked, smirking a little. It had only grown  _ less _ inspiring, and needed something to perk it up. Hopefully with the spring planting, there would be a better assortment of vegetables, and an increase in trade. "Turnips and boar is a delicacy."

Jarett snorted and prodded the piece of meat on his plate with his knife. "Even as a joke, it hurts. But I can at least give it some flavor even if it remains yet another piece of boar."

"Pie," Cassandra said suddenly. "Pie is the best thing we've got to offer, but fruit is hard to come by. There are some trees that bear fruit about now. We might be able to find some in the forest if we look in the most out of the way places."

"We might?  _ We _ might."

"The Lady of Whitestone can't travel about the forest unprotected, can she?"

That got a low laugh from Jarett. "The Lady of Whitestone is full of manure, but so lovely at the same time I could not possibly refuse."

" _ And _ it's your duty."

"That as well. You know I have no recipe for pie?"

Cassandra shrugged, smiling. "You could learn, or just let the cooks do it with our ill-gotten fruit."

"You are ridiculous."

A sudden clench in her chest, and Cassandra's smile faltered. "I hope that's a good thing." 

"It makes me happy to see."

"Oh." Besides vague teasing between Percy and herself, she hadn't felt like humor was within her reach. "I think it's because of you."

"Then we will take this trip into the woods to steal your mysterious fruit so someone can make pie for you."

"I never said it was a good plan."

"And yet, it is better than any of the plans Vox Machina have come up with in my experience."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fruit picking, because Whitestone is stifling and represents everything Cassandra wishes she wasn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure where this fruit thing came from, except I knew I wanted to get Cassandra out of Whitestone for a little personal reflection (and the idea that as it stands, being in Whitestone is actually bad for her psyche until she deals with her Briarwood-induced issues). Also protective Jarett: it's not just a job, it's an adventure.
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.tumblr.com

The stables were nearly empty. There just hadn't been the time or resources to get more horses than the very few the Briarwoods had kept, so they rode out of Whitestone on a pair of tired but serviceable horses.

"It's been a long while," Cassandra said as they passed from the cleared edge of the city into the forest north. The silence, outside the sounds of the horses was beautiful, and she regretted speaking at all. It was nice to see the forest had escaped the corruption that the city and farms were only just now beginning to recover from.

She'd never be a hunter, had never gotten the chance to learn to use or to love a bow, and was grateful for the crossbow slung across Jarett's back, though she had no expectation s that it would be necessary. The boars were more south, preferring to be closer to the fields, and the wolves were shy of humans as long as the deer were around.

From memory, as long as they didn't get too close to the mountains, they should be safe from anything  _ else _ .

"When  _ Lady _ Vex'ahlia comes back, she might have her work cut out for her," Cassandra said as the trees grew more dense and they lost sight of the city. The castle was just visible, but only in brief glimpses.

"Oh? Why is that? Should we have brought an escort?"

"It's the Grey Hunt. Kind of a long and uninteresting story, except when Winter's Crest comes…." Cassandra nodded, trying to hold back a wide smile. "I'm looking forward to it." In her peripheral vision, she could see the disbelieving look Jarett had fixed her with. "No, really! I actually have all the confidence in the world she's up to the task."

"The task. This is not just ceremonial."

"No. It shouldn't be difficult for her though. But it is an event. I wonder if Percy even told her about it." Cassandra shrugged, because there was nothing for her to do about it. "She'll do fine."

"She has a bear."

"She has a bear."

Jarett looked around at the forest, no signs of civilization in sight now. "We lack a bear."

"But we have you. I consider that almost as good."

Feigned outrage crossed Jarett's features, and Cassandra spurred her horse on.

In hindsight, it was a mistake because while the horse was walking, it was fine, but now she could barely hold on. To make it that much worse, she was laughing and starting to list to the left dangerously. Before she lost her seat completely, Cassandra pulled back on the reins to make the horse slow, and as she was struggling to get upright again, she felt a hand on her arm giving her a firm push.

"Perhaps," Jarett said from right next to her, "we should continue at a slower pace. I have no desire to return to the castle with you injured. I suspect it would not go over well."

It depended on who found them first, but overall he was probably right. "And you might be overestimating how much people are concerned about my safety." Only half in jest, and completely depressing.

Their horses were walking close enough that he could reach out and grab her arm, but he kept his hands on the reins. "You have that crease again. This is not the place for troubling thoughts; it is far too peaceful."

It was, and this little excursion was to ease the boredom of their limited foodstuffs, not to drag her bad memories everywhere. "I'm trying."

"And I will keep reminding you to try."

"Thank you." Whether it was people trying to be too nice or simply not knowing what to do, and those who didn't care, Jarett was the only one so far that had made any sense. Or maybe he was just the first one  _ she _ listened to.

Given the chance to think about it, to have things laid out simply, Cassandra could see it was him, but because he was an outsider. It gave them both distance, and her the opportunity to contemplate things through his perspective. Space and time, two things she didn't have either of, and she couldn't even throw herself into danger for distraction the way Percy insisted on doing.

At every opportunity. To his detriment.

To his  _ death _ .

To say she envied him was overstating it, but it was a vague feeling she couldn't shake off. It might never go away Cassandra was beginning to believe, but also that she didn't want to do the insanely dangerous things he and Vox Machina did, get involved in every single crisis; the two she'd survived was enough. "What was it like? The dragon."

Jarett visibly shuddered, and shook his head. "Terrible, and something I never wish to encounter again. Quick action by Vox Machina saved me the worst of the scars, but it will haunt me until I am dead."

"If," she started, and almost immediately wanted to retract the word, but kept on because it was too late, "you ever want to talk about it, or…."

"Perhaps, but I think it will a long while before I am ready to speak of it at length."

"Of course." Cassandra fell quiet, but only briefly. "Can I ask you, and don't answer if you don't want to, but is that why you decided to stay in Whitestone?"

His answer is terse, and his jaw tenses: "Yes."

"I hope you can heal here then, in a way that I can't."

They continued on in silence, Cassandra trying to remember the path she hadn't taken for many years. The landscape of the forest hadn't changed much, but had aged five years, and with hazy memories, notable features were even harder to pinpoint.

The trees that she remembered growing smaller than the giants were now taller, and- "This way. The treefall, it's not as big as it used to be, or I'm not as small, but I remember it."

She had no explanation as to why this grove had popped up, what was different here compared to anywhere else--the sun, the soil, a hundred other random factors--but here was a grove of over twenty trees. Even though there were no flowers on the trees, the air was still fragrant as it swirled around them, making the leaves rustle.

Cassandra was a little sorry she'd missed the flowers, but there was always next year. Of that she was confident. "Pick as many as will fit in the bag. No telling when we'll get back here again." Already she was off her horse and eyeing the trees, looking for the ripe fruit. The trees weren't overly tall, but she could still only reach the lowest branches.

"Is there a reason to rush?"

Looking over her shoulder, Cassandra found Jarett off his horse and holding his crossbow. "It's fine," she said, smiling slightly. She'd seen plenty of guards at attention and what amounted to guards in a panic, but she'd never seen any at the ready the way Jarett was at the moment. "There's nothing dangerous here."

"You may be confident about that, but I am not. Stay near the horses until I am sure there are no threats."

"Yes, sir."

He glared at her, in a stern, protective way, before he set off around the edge of the grove.

Cassandra went to sit beneath the closest tree, back against the narrow trunk, to wait. It was pleasant being away from the castle, and Whitestone in general, to just relax and not worry about anything for a short amount of time. Even over the breeze, she could hear the distant sounds of normal wilderness.

There was nothing here to worry about. Jarett was just being… protective. Overly so.

"It looks clear."

Cassandra kind of screamed, not loudly, but it wasn't any sort of coherent declaration of surprise. "Pelor's hair! I very nearly wet myself, thank you."

Standing over her, grinning now, Jarett held out his hand. "You are very welcome."

They spent the better part of an hour finding and picking the small, ripe fruits from the trees before the bags were full.

"Here, have you had one of these before?" Cassandra pulled a wrapped object from the leather satchel strapped to her horse's side, and offered it to Jarett.

"What is it?"

"It's… like a hand-sized pie. I remember my mother giving these to me. She'd taught the cooks how to make them." While she was talking, explaining, she got the other out and sat beneath the tree once more. "They're better hot, but she told me these were what the miners ate back where she was from. They're as close to tradition as anything I remember about her."

How could she have forgotten so much of her mother in five years?

Jarett sat next to her, eyeing the pastry curiously. "What is it filled with?"

"Meat and vegetables. Nothing fancy." Cassandra bit into her own, and was rewarded with a taste that immediately made her think of lunch in the garden, eating one of these while Mother was helping Whitney and Oliver with their lessons. She laughed hollowly, and shook her head. "They're probably awful. I don't know why I thought it was a good idea." Her stomach rolled with the sudden wave of grief that overtook her.

She moved to take the pie away from Jarett, but he pulled it back and out of her reach. "No."

The grief hitting her harder, maybe for the first time at all, she dropped her food to the ground, fingers spasming . Cassandra  curled in on herself, drawing her knees against her chest, and started to sob.

Distantly, she knew this was what she needed: somewhere far away from the castle and city, away from everyone, where she could finally relax her the control she tried to keep on her emotions and memories. She didn't need to bury her face in a pillow, to stifle her feelings, to  _ deny _ it all as much as she could.

"Here." Jarett turned her gently, and put his arms around her.

There was a moment where her entire being wanted to rebel, to push him away because she didn't want him to see her like this, but something inside relented, released that control she fought so hard for, and knew she was safe. Without thought, and for the first time what might as well have been forever without worry, Cassandra unfolded her legs, turned into the embrace, and wrapped her arms around Jarett.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jarett's just not going to take her self-deceiving, but he's not going to push her away either. Cassandra will just have to learn. Learn how to deal with him, learn how to deal with herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PIE IS NOT ALL WHIMSY.
> 
> There will be subtle changes happening, just so I can tweak things to be mostly canon compliant up to 94, though I don't think there will be any specific spoilers.
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.tumblr.com

"Here, let me." Jarett stopped them as Whitestone came into view, and with the end of his shirt sleeve, wiped her face.

Cassandra laughed a little, tears still in her eyes. "I appreciate the effort, but I don't think there's any saving the mess I look like."

"I think there is nothing wrong with how you look."

"I can hardly call you unbiased though, can I?" She looked for a moment at him, then ducked her head slightly, embarrassed by the attention he was focusing on her. There was no way she wasn't blushing, and it was just-

"I would not take money for such a job. I say these things freely, with no expectation other than I hope one day you will believe me."

"Anything's possible." Because she didn't think she deserved it, but also wanted to believe she might. "It's-"

"Difficult, I know, but what else can I do? The past is a dangerous thing to toy with, assuming one even has the power to do so." He lowered his hand, trailing just down her arm for a moment, before sitting upright in the saddle again. "Would you do that if you could?"

Cassandra looked down the road to Whitestone, then at her horse, stroking its neck. Would she? The easy and immediate answer was  _ yes _ , because the amount of grief and strife avoided and lives saved was incalculable, with it centered primarily on her family.

But Jarett was right: changing the past, altering the present, sending the future into undreamed of directions was frightening. She didn't know all the things her brother had done with Vox Machina, and didn't know if he'd affected them in any significant way, but what if-

What if. It was always what if, and she'd tried to stop herself from thinking about those impossibilities.

Cassandra shook her head. "I can't change it. There's no point to think about it. Do I wish my family were here? Yes, but-" She shrugged, the familiar numbness when she talked about them settling in. "-wishes are easy to make, and then what?" She gave a little tap with her heels to get her horse moving, and Jarett followed a step behind.

"I have never wished for anything worthy of a wish," he said, sounding carefully neutral, whether for her benefit or his unclear. "Whimsy of a child, and then the reality of the world around me. There are times I feel nothing I can say is adequate."

Turning to look back at him, Cassandra said, surprised and concerned, "It's… more than adequate. It's  _ better _ . I couldn't deny that, and it's more than I deserve."

Jarett's brows furrowed and his lips pinched. "The frustration you cause me is-"

"Julius used to complain about me to Mother, how I was always underfoot and bothering him. I suppose I was born to be a pain in the ass." It was odd to feel lightness when talking about her siblings, because memories of her parents  _ crushed _ her, and Cassandra had no idea why the reactions were so different.

Perhaps Jarett heard it in her voice, because his reply was perceptively airy: "The curse of the youngest child."

The corners of Cassandra's mouth started to lift, even if she wasn't entirely sure she wanted them to. "On me, or…?"

"Assuredly on everyone else."

She gave him a look of mock outrage only to have him wink in response. The stray thought to spur her horse to a trot was banished as soon as it made itself known. As poetic as it would have been for her to suddenly ride away, her riding skills were not ready for such a display. Instead, she reached over and slapped Jarett's upper arm. "Mr. Howarth, you forget your station."

"Apologies, My Lady." He bowed from his seat, hand splayed in the middle of his chest. "I will accept whatever punishment you see fitting."

Cassandra's brain stuttered to a halt, and left unable to respond in any coherent fashion. Her mouth opened and closed, opened again, and stayed that way. He gave her no indication that this was a joke; to her, he was one hundred percent serious. Suddenly she could feel her pulse in her face, and her cheeks heat up.

Closing her mouth, teeth clicking, Cassandra looked toward the city once more. "Maybe…." Her lips quirked into a brief smile where he couldn't see. "I don't have a handmaiden. Maybe that's what I'll have you do, when you're not busy with more important things, of course."

"If that is what My Lady wishes."

The idea of humiliating him was not desirable at all. Humiliation, even done in jest by friends, made her uneasy and, in the extreme, angry. She'd  _ felt _ that, living in Whitestone with a band of criminals that thought it useful to parade her out like a prized animal. Overdressed in clothes that weren't her own, made up like a fancy whore, and forced to pretend everything was fine as people begged her for help and hurled insults at her and her dead family, Cassandra understood humiliation too well.

"No, nevermind," she said and shook her head, her hands white-knuckled on the reins now. "I won't make you do that; it's not appropriate for someone of your position. I'm sorry I suggested it."

The subsequent silence only made her more worried that she'd insulted Jarett, and on their return, he would be on his way out of Whitestone. 

When they got back to the castle, Cassandra was sick with worry. At the stable, she ignored ll offers to assist her, and when both her feet were back on solid ground, her knees almost gave way. Her legs were shaking so badly, like she'd just learned to walk, that she had to hold on the saddle. The stablehands were watching her, she could feel it, but couldn't step away just yet.

Jarett's voice was low, near her ear, and his hand was on her elbow. "My Lady, are you well?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I just…."  She pushed away from the horse, stumbling before she got her legs steady, feeling the way Jarett tightened his hold to help her, and straightened her coat. "These need to go to the kitchen." Cassandra held up the bags of fruit for all to see, as if she were required to give an explanation or reason.

With Jarett still holding her elbow, making it look like he was escorting her rather than offering support, Cassandra walked out of the stables. It was possibly the one thing she could thank the Briarwoods for: she'd learned to fake dignity for her own peace of mind. Here, she looked like, or believed she looked like, a proper noble of Whitestone as she made her way to the kitchen. While Jarett released her elbow, he still walked so closely she could feel his presence.

"You don't need to hover. I'm fine."

"That is still in dispute."

"It's not. If I say I'm fine then I'm fine." Cassandra picked up her pace, trying to get a little more distance between herself and Jarett.

"From my perspective, this is…." He sighed heavily enough that his breath ruffled her hair. "I thought you said you were tired of lying. Why are you lying to me now?"

Cassandra pursed her lips, and started walking faster. He very easily kept pace with her, the question still hanging in the air between them. This wasn't something she could outrun unless she asked him to leave the castle completely.

That… wouldn't do.

Luckily, the kitchen wasn't far, and on arrival, curtly but not unkindly, she said, "Could you please use this in a pie for tonight?" to the cooks there. They were familiar faces, and she wondered if they ever left or if they in the kitchen from before dawn until well dark. This was something she hadn't even considered. As long as food was coming when needed, she didn't  _ need _ to worry about it. One more thing to add to her list of things she didn't even know she had to think about.

"Of course, My Lady," one woman, older than the other cooks there with iron grey hair and deep lines around her mouth and at the corners of her eyes, answered. "If I may, I remember making these kinds of things for your mother."

"I remember enjoying them. Thank you." Cassandra looked at the others, all watching her, and said, "Thank you all." To say anything more, to give voice to the ideas swirling in her head, would just be making promises she couldn't necessarily keep. These people deserved more. Everyone in Whitestone did, but her ability to give it to them was in doubt.

It was very basic, and she hoped people understood, though she would accept their blame, as was part of her place in the castle: her own lack of knowledge and experience, and economics. The council was helping, but people still expected  _ her _ to provide for them in their time of need. That was how it had always been.

Leaving the fruit on the closest flat surface, Cassandra turned and left awkwardly. Suffering with dignity she could do. Being nice with dignity was still uncomfortable.

"Do you remember her?" Jarett asked quietly as he followed her down the hall.

"No, but I do remember her cooking. I wasn't allowed in the kitchen, ever, but I don't think it was for worry of my safety." And Vesper's room, and Percy's workshop, and the stables, and so many other places in and around the castle. "I wouldn't say I was a terror. Just… bored." And then Cassandra remembered this wasn't some fond remembrance of her childhood; she didn't want Jarett to stay out of pity after hearing her stories. "But that's nothing now, and you should go if that's what you want. You're not forced to-"

Cassandra squeaked as Jarett grabbed her arm hauled her backwards. "Distractions are well and good, but now I would like answers, if you please."

There was a spike of fear, an automatic response to a memory she couldn't even distinctly recall, and she tried to pull away. "Let go of me!" At least she had her voice, and didn't whimper and cower like she had before.

Before, when…. When….

Eyes going wide in the moment of realization, Cassandra's free hand flew up to her neck and covered the raised mass of scar tissue there. It was the middle of the day, but the world was shrouded in darkness and she could see faintly glowing eyes, feel his cool hand on her skin, before her was yanked back-

"There are no monsters here now," Jarett said quietly, and took her into a warm embrace that felt nothing like death.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not a setback if she never took the step forward in the first place. Jarett's dragging her forward, and she really wants to not fight that. Or does she? She definitely doesn't want to drive him away though.

The fire was almost out, leaving her room chilly and dimly lit as the afternoon faded into evening.

"Here." Jarett pulled back the blankets and tried to steer Cassandra into bed.

The time wasn't even her concern, that it wasn't close to any time she'd go to bed. No, it was less relevant than that. "My clothes," she said, and resisted his motion. "My clothes are filthy. I'll get dirt in bed."

"Perhaps," Jarett countered, and with his hands on her waist, turned her and forced her to sit. "Would it be the first time? Surely you've not  _ always _ slept in a pristine bed before?"

She shook her head, staring at the open door.

"Never? Not a tent, or a bedroll?" Jarett laughed lightly as he removed her boots, releasing the buckles and sliding them from her feet. "Surely you've fallen asleep somewhere other than your bed?"

Cassandra looked from the doorway down to Jarett, and felt frighteningly hollow. "A cell."

There was no pleasure to be found in seeing his expression fall.

"They never said why. It was the one I found my brother in, and I could see the bodies. I guess it was a warning: there was no one left to save me, and if I didn't do what they wanted, I'd end up on top of that pile." Her clothes hadn't been clean then, covered in blood and dirt and filth.

"I did not mean to push."

But her clothes weren't at the moment, just some leaf litter from sitting on the ground and a little dried mud above the point her boots had reached. Jarett was very good at dredging up all the things she had forgotten to save her sanity. "What do you want from me? I'll die before I break again because I know what it feels like."

"No one expects you to break. Perhaps they expect too much of you, but not that." He took her hand in both of his own while still crouched in front of her. "And if someone does, if it is ever mentioned, they will answer to me."

She squeezed his hand before pulling away. "No. You're not my bodyguard; you weren't assigned to that and you shouldn't have to-"

"I do it because I wish to. Please, accept that this is what I want to do. I understand you may not want-"

"I gave up on saviors in the first week. On the idea of divine intervention. The Briarwoods were right: no one was going to save me. I'm still alive though, so I don't need someone to save me now." There was a moment where Cassandra just wanted to pull everything back, stop speaking, and think about what was happening. Her emotions were in flux, her thoughts were unordered, and Jarett was trying so hard to fix a problem that had been rendered irreparable five years ago.

But the words, not quite spiteful but surely her tone was, kept coming. "My brother just comes waltzing in here like this is still his house and he needs to save the memory of his family, and brings all his troubles. All the people that suddenly need  _ our  _ help when we can barely help ourselves, and when the people are doing the best they can, they're told it's not good enough.

"I'm not good enough. I never will be. Your pity is the only way I'll ever…." Cassandra turned away, embarrassed now. "You deserve more than being stuck here."

Jarett stood. "I know these thoughts are not ones you want, and not ones someone of your age should be burdened with. Wait here until I return, please."

"I suppose I don't have anywhere else to go." She watched him go, leaving her with one last stern look, then stared into the dark fireplace. If he would just stop digging at her, she'd be able to forget it all. Before….

Damn, before  _ she'd _ asked him, invited him to ask her about everything that had happened practically, instead of just letting him be. But then, letting anything be was not who she was.

She looked down at her feet, and wiggled her toes, then rotated her ankles. The left one popped loudly, a leftover from her escape attempt, drawing a momentary spike of discomfort that dulled to mere discomfort. A daily hot bath was a luxury, she knew, but without it, Cassandra's whole body ached, hurts no magic had ever been able to touch.

Briefly, she massaged her thigh and knee, the one Jarett hadn't disciplined her on, and frowned at the fireplace. Was it really so early that no one had come by to prepare it for the night? As much as people might believe, she wasn't helpless, so she stood with a grimace and started to build the fire. Whatever Jarett was off doing, sitting and waiting for him felt… weak.

Weak and confused. Her moods changing in an instant had become, not exactly habit, but certainly something Cassandra didn't think twice of any longer. With Jarett, they were different because she didn't want to look weak in front of him, but she wanted to lean on his strength so badly.

She wanted him to take care of her, but not as a child. She wanted her parents back, but she didn't  _ need _ them.

The flames were flickering, starting to grow in the fireplace, as she added more kindling from the iron rack next to it. She remembered the days of the large carts being wheeled through the halls, when she'd have to press against the wall to let them pass, so that the fires in every bedroom could be maintained. There just weren't enough people in the castle now, especially with a large majority of them returning to Emon.

Not that she'd been close to most of them; they'd been there for a reason, for a real purpose, and hospitality had been a distant concern. While she wasn't alone in the castle, it felt like it every morning she woke up to relative silence. It wasn't fair, but she often felt like she'd been abandoned.

Thankfully, a solid set of knocks on her door pulled her back into the moment.

"My Lady," Jarett said as he opened the door, not even waiting for her acknowledgment, "a bath has been prepared for you, and dinner will be up shortly."

He looked so concerned, she couldn't help but smile at him from her kneeling position in front of the fireplace. "Thank you. And I think I'm feeling better now. I don't know what…." Oh right. "You're not upset with me, are you?"

Jarett's concern changed to confusion. "Of course not. Please." He held out his hand. "A bath will help."

Forcing herself to her feet, Cassandra said, "Why do I feel so old?"

"That I could not say. Training more may help, limber your joints." As she got to her feet and limped over to him, he shook his head. "Granted you pay attention."

Cassandra blushed, but only because of the prominent memory of him putting salve on the bruise. Not that she enjoyed the swats at the time, but that almost made it worth it. "That was different." She fetched a nightdress and robe. "I had never had formal training before."

"And that is why I went easy on you." He held out his arm for her. "The new trainees are not so lucky."

Cassandra, taking hold of his arm, had the idea the new trainees were not so distracted as she had been though. "Next time I'll be more attentive."

"Of course you will, and that is the point."

"It sounds like a lesson you learned personally."

"I did not learn to fight by brawling in the street. I took my training very seriously after the mistakes I made. I would never compare my situation to yours, but we do both know what losing a home feels like." Jarett nodded to himself. "The life of a wanderer held no appeal; I needed a new home, and for that I needed skills. Killing other people is always a viable skill. Forgive my bluntness."

Cassandra had a dislike for sell-swords she couldn't quite pinpoint, not the why, because she'd lived with the worst of them for five years, but the what. The idea of it, was just…. "I'm sorry," she said and shook her head. "I know you did what you felt you had to do. I just find that distasteful now."

"And it was not always work I agreed with, but at the time, the coin was more important than principles. I am happy to say that is a choice I no longer need to make, being here."

They'd reached the bath. "And thank you for staying," she said to him. "Your presence is what Whitestone needed." Cassandra avoided looking him in the eye. "What I needed."

He tsked. "Anyone could have done this. I am merely the first in the position to do so, and the one unafraid of the task. Now. Your bath awaits; and then dinner, My Lady." Jarett bowed, and held open the door.

~

"Did you get some pie?" Cassandra asked loudly.

"I did." Jarett's voice was muffled by the door.

"Did you try it yet?"

"No."

"You should, especially while it's still warm." She was holding the small plate very carefully. Dropping it into the bath water would be a waste of pie and a bath. "Did you-" She sighed. "Please open the door. It's very tiresome yelling."

"It would be inappropriate."

"I'm not saying you should come in; just stay in the hall. This is silly, and the entire castle can probably hear you."

There was a long moment of silence, but Cassandra couldn't stop her triumphant grin when the door slowly opened. She saw only a glimpse of his hand, but the fact he had done it at all pleased her far more than maybe it should have. "That's much easier, isn't it?" she said, her volume at a much more reasonable level.

"You are right. There, I said it."

Cassandra laughed and almost let her pie slide off the plate. "Shit. All right, I have to eat this before it turns into a crime against baths and food." The first heavenly bite turned into two, three, four, and then it was gone. "Too soon," she said wistfully, and set aside the plate. "You liked it, didn't you? I mean, it's fine if you didn't; it just proves you have questionable taste."

"It was very good. Will you spend all night in the bath?"

"Gods, you are worse than my mother. Yes, I'm done." She stood, the water reaching just below her navel, and reached for the large towel. There was a noise from behind her, and the door slammed.

"I hope you did not do that on purpose, Lady Cassandra," Jarett said loudly, his tone audibly strained even through the door.

"I didn't. I don't have that kind of courage." Another mistake. She was determined to drive him away apparently. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I don't normally bathe with the door open."

No doubt the noise he made was one of frustration, but he didn't actually say anything. It was certainly well within his right to, after he'd protested the opening of the door in the first place, but he didn't, and how could she repay that?

A lecture or chastisement was the last thing she needed. Being treated like a child while expected to be an adult was a thing already dividing her efforts to be  _ normal _ . Maybe she'd get this figured out one day.

On emerging from the bath, dressed and covered completely, Cassandra bowed her head to Jarett. "I'm sorry for that. You can have your leave of me now."

"Lady Cassandra, that was… very foolish. And possibly dangerous. You must consider your-"

A lecture then. "I said you're dismissed, Mr. Howarth," she said, her shoulders sagging. Her feet feeling like lead weights, she brushed past him on her way to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to include this bath scenario, but I didn't want a creepy 'getting an eyeful of everything' situation. That would hurt the relationship between the two of them too much, and even by accident would erode trust. I did want this bit of strain, but not to that degree. It also probably would have been really horrifying for Cassandra considering where I am going with the narrative. So, since it's not explicit because Cassandra doesn't see it, Jarett goes to shut the door, sees her bare back down to just above the buttcrack, she's just pulling the towel back to herself, almost flashing sideboob, and he slams the door. He will do (almost) anything she asks of him, but he won't be taken advantage of like that, not by her because her issues are not a joke.
> 
> Also, because it's awkward to write, and I tried to include it but it ended up reading stilted and ham-fisted and just didn't belong, I have Cassandra edging close to 19, while Jarett is roughly Percy's age (Matt described him as early 20s).
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.tumblr.com


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where there's smoke...
> 
> (there's definitely something burning)
> 
> Jarett really only does want to keep her safe and help her in whatever way is within his power.

It was a restless night's sleep, and Cassandra got out of bed feeling exhausted and irritable. Today was a day to sit behind that ridiculous desk and go through the ever-building stack of work left there. At least she was being productive while she was hiding this way.

With a few cursory drags of the brush through her hair first, she pinned it up without care of its look. The clothing she picked out was simply the first thing under her fingertips, and she had no desire to go down for breakfast, but her growling of her stomach was not to be ignored.

Upon exiting her chambers, eyes barely open and mind sluggish, she turned to find a guard standing there unexpectedly. If she hadn't taken such a huge breath, she might have screamed. Instead, it was just an exaggerated gasp as she put her hand to her chest. "My gods! You scared the life out of me."

"My apologies." The guard bowed. "I was assigned first shift as your personal guard."

Immediately Cassandra narrowed her eyes at him. "And who decided that I needed a personal guard?"

The guard almost takes a step back, away from her. "I-I don't know, My Lady. I was only given the post this morning. From the guard commander."

Well.

Words were going to be had.

"Fine," she snapped. "Keep up then." If the decision was made without her in such a way, certainly her opinion on the matter didn't mean much after the fact. At least not without some shouting.

~

Breakfast was a distant memory as she approached the barracks. Morning training was already in full swing, and the training yard was filled with fifty men split into pairs and sparring.

"My Lady," her guard said, doing a very admirable job of keeping up even while wearing full armor and carrying a shield, "it isn't safe to walk through while-"

"Quiet." Cassandra had her target in sight, at the far end of the yard, and was not to be deterred. She walked right into the middle of the men (and a few women, only distinguishable up close from the men because of the bulky gear), drawing stares, and even getting several groups to stop.

"This is no place for the Lady of Whitestone," Jarett called out as the rest of the trainees stopped to watch her march.

Cassandra was not wasting words here, not until she could say them while he could get a good look at the anger on her face.

Apparently it was impressive, because the bodies in front of her, between herself and Jarett, parted, unwilling to stand in her way. That felt  _ good _ , in a way that maybe it shouldn't, that reminded her a little too much of the Briarwoods. That wasn't how she wanted to be perceived by the citizens of Whitestone, but if she could squeeze even a drop of respect from them, then-

And that  _ definitely  _ reminded her of the Briarwoods, so when she reached Jarett, Cassandra turned to address the group. "I'm sorry for interrupting your training. Please continue."

There was a long moment where nobody moved. They didn't listen, didn't respect her, didn't consider-

"You heard Lady Cassandra!" Jarett boomed, at a tenor and volume that was completely new to Cassandra.

The trainees regrouped, the closest ones looking a little shaken, and began sparring once more. Giving them all a last nod, Cassandra turned and stepped  _ close _ to Jarret. "You're responsible for this, aren't you?" she asked with miraculous restraint, and jabbed him lightly in the chest with her finger.

He crossed his arms, and had the nerve to nod imperiously down at her. "I am."

In an instant, her fury peaked in a way it hadn't since… She couldn't even remember the last time she'd been so mad  _ and _ could articulate it. " _ You _ do not get to make these kinds of decisions for  _ me _ .  _ You _ are not the Lord of Whitestone.  _ You _ are not my master.  _ You _ -"

"Are very worried about you, My Lady."

Her finger was just about to poke him in the chest once more when her anger was snuffed out like a candle. "What?"

"Here, we should speak inside as to not be a distraction." His hand folded gently around her extended one, and Jarett took a step backwards.

Glancing at her personal guard, Cassandra told him, "Wait out here." Because yes, they were being a distraction to the trainees, but he was doing it to spare her embarrassment. To make it not appear he was leading her, she stepped forward, and with his hand still around her own, walked into the shade of the storage shed.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the lower light, and when they did, she could see perfectly how intently Jarett was watching her. "Just…. Why?"

"You indicated you did not want me there last night, as is your right. The guard presence in the castle is much lower than makes me comfortable, and now that so many are moving back to Emon…." Jarett shook his head. "This would be an opportunity for someone with ill intentions toward you.

"That is unacceptable. I spoke with the guard commander; he shared my concerns once I explained them, and now you have a  _ single _ personal guard. I knew it would displease you; do not take your ire out on the guard." His thumb brushed across the back of her hand. "If you must, blame me and only me."

"I treated you so poorly," Cassandra whispered, still very aware of all the people so close and likely to approach at any moment.

"That is what  _ you  _ saw, what you  _ believed _ . You think too harshly of yourself, imagine your words more damaging than they are. Please, at lunch, we can speak of it privately, because I have so many questions and you have avoided them at every turn."

Cassandra de Rolo had never kissed anyone, had never felt the urge, had never known anyone she wanted to kiss until Jarett. And even then, it hadn't been immediate, because she didn't trust easily, not for something so… personal. "I'm afraid to talk in private." Her breaths were short and her mouth was dry.

He looked hurt. "Why?"

"Because I…." Cassandra looked out and found they were unwatched. "I don't know what I might do if we're alone." SHe turned her hand over to grasp his. "I don't want you to go. I want you to stay more than anything, but I keep saying and doing things that make you want to leave."

"I have no desire to leave, and this is the very reason we need to talk." It was Jarett's turn to look out before saying quietly, "Cassandra, ask anything of me, and as long as it is something you honestly desire, I will give it to you."

The words came out in a rush, almost without thinking about them: "Lunch in the sitting room."

"I will be there."

Cassandra pulled her hand free of his, took a deep breath to compose herself, then walked out into the bright sunlight. Without a word or a look back, she made her way around the edge of the training yard, her guard in tow, and made her back to the castle.

*

She'd asked for something light, not boar, and even then could only sip at her tea. After a moment, she set her cup down so she could move the other chair at the small table closer to her own.

Then she moved it a little further away, so it didn't look quite so obvious. But if he didn't understand the things she couldn't say earlier, then it didn't matter, did it? SHe moved the chair closer.

Cassandra was considering moving the chair again so she didn't seem so eager when there was a sharp double knock and the door opened.

Jarett's face was neutral, very business-like, until he was in the room and the door was shut. In that moment, he smiled and his gaze softened. "Forgive me for being late. SOmetimes, they reveal how very young they are."

"Of course." The nerves rushing in full were making her hands shake, so instead of gesturing for him to sit, Cassandras pulled the empty chair out. "Please, sit."

There was no mistaking the arch of his eyebrow, the careful observance of how closely the chair was positioned next to her own, or the narrowing of his eyes in amusement. Jarett bowed low at the waist before sitting, so close that when he pulled his chair in, their thighs were touching. "Cassandra-"

"You  _ knew _ what I meant earlier. And I want…." Her brow furrowed and she looked at her half-empty tea. "I want what you want. I  _ want _ to answer your questions, but so many I don't know the answers for."

"Tell me why you think I want to leave, so I can assure you that I most certainly will not." His attention, the second he'd entered the room, had been on her.

"Because I insulted you, and I acted rudely toward you, and I would  _ never _ make you stay. I wouldn't make anyone stay, not even my brother." Cassandra twisted her hands around one another, discovering a new source of anxiety within herself. "I can't order people to do things they don't want to do. I can't take up that mantle."

_ I am a Briarwood _ .

Cassandra shuddered, and hunched down in her chair, hands squeezing each other so hard her fingers ached.

"I think," Jarett began gently, and placed his hands over hers, "you will find your way.  _ Your _ way. There is no need to copy what others have done."

She looked up, her hands relaxing in his, and with fear and frustration reading clearly in her eyes, she said, "That's what I know. I don't remember what my father was like, not that I knew in the first place. Just…." Fear and intimidation, and when those didn't work, retribution. "If Percy hadn't suggested a council, I have no idea what shape Whitestone would be in right now. Probably ruins."

"Not everyone has left just yet. There are those still here you could consult. I am sure she would not mind."

Eyes going wide at the sudden realization, Cassandra looked up at the ceiling. "I never even considered that. This is exactly why I just don't think I'll ever truly get it."

Salda kept to herself most days, spending her time with her children, and was never unfriendly. It was just easy to forget the power she wielded, even if it had been secondary to her husband. Surely she had some ideas on how to  _ properly _ run a city, or even just deal with the small things that kept cropping up in tiny endless waves.

Even if she learned nothing, the very idea of the conversation was enough to bolster Cassandra's spirits.

"I think she will be wanting to leave soon. Each time I see her, she appears… restless."

"I'm sure Whitestone is far below the speed of life she's used to. And the accommodations aren't probably much better than a fancy farmhouse to her. And the weather. The food."

"It has probably been a good time for her to regroup after such a terrible loss."

Something Cassandra had never been given the opportunity to do, but then no one cared about Whitestone or her family the way they cared about Emon.

Jarett's fingers touched her cheek, drawing her attention to him. Cassandra hadn't even noticed him move his hand, but that was most likely because she was squeezing her own hands once more.

"You deserve it just as much. There is no winner in who has the greater tragedy, only survivors." His fingers slid back toward her ear until his thumb could easily caress the apple of her cheek in a soothing repetitive pattern. "I have a question to ask."

Everything outside his hand and his golden brown eyes was forgotten; Cassandra couldn't look away even if she'd wanted to. "Yes."

"You asked me a question many days ago. Have you considered it as I asked?"

"Yes." Too much, too often maybe.

"This morning you said you were afraid of what you would do if we were alone. Does that mean you decided?"

"Yes." As embarrassing as she suddenly found the admission, there was no denying it. She'd lied so much, for so long, this was something she had to tell him the truth about. Without thinking about what she was doing, Cassandra leaned into his touch. "I-I want it more now than before." Her cheeks were burning, but it  _ had _ to be the truth, because it was beyond curiosity and worry for the future.

"May I kiss you, Lady Cassandra?"

Cassandra nodded and managed to whisper, "Yes."

As Jarett leaned in, she let her eyes fall closed, and allowed him to tilt her head to the angle that fit them best, and just as she started to catalog how close his body was to hers, his lips brushed across her own. It was hardly anything, but from it she felt total relief, if only because a simple kiss was something she never thought she'd get.

When he did it again, Cassandra opened her eyes halfway and chased, pressing her lips harder to his. Maybe it came across as desperate, but that was only fair because she certainly  _ felt  _ desperate. That teasing touch though, that was too cruel to just leave her with, and she wouldn't stand for that at this point.

As he started to back away, Cassandra reached up and hooked her fingers underneath the edge of his leather jerkin to hold him in place. Not waiting for him, and noting with satisfaction the look of surprise Jarett was wearing, she kissed him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go, I actually fit a little progression in there. :D
> 
> I really don't think Cassandra can ever stop suffering (however mild it may become or even be now) from her experience. Five years is a long time, and a lot of what happened in that time is up to viewer interpretation, but me? I think what she told Percy about being discovered and leading a rebellion before she got captured, I think that was a lie. I think they had her right from the start and started grooming her immediately. If Percy hadn't been part of VM in the effort to retake Whitestone, she wouldn't have given two shits about killing any of them, and going right along with the Briarwoods' plan.
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.tumblr.com


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch is cut short, much too soon for Cassandra's liking, but there's always dinner. Unless her mood is ruined by having a talk with Salda, and they come to a decision about Hunin and Kyor which raises doubts and jealousy
> 
> and it's never simple for her. All she wants to do is make out with Jarett.

He didn't resist at all. To the contrary, as soon as she went in the third time, clumsy and aggressive and having no idea what she was doing, he chuckled against her lips. "That I was not expecting."

"Too much?" she asked, breathless from the thrill of it, her nose brushing against his, so close she had to cross her eyes to look at him.

"Only if you feel it is. Or not enough. Whatever you wish."

"Not enough." She felt like a fool, probably sounded like on just blurting things out like that. "I sound desperate, don't I? Pathetic even."

"You sound," Jarett answered with a smile, "like a person that knows what they want." He drew back, just a little, and touched the corner of her mouth with his index finger. "If I may?"

Cassandra had no idea what he was asking permission for, but for all her annoyance earlier, she still trusted him completely. "Of course."

He traced the lower edge of her lip, catching it just barely and coaxing it lower, parting her lips before saying, "Maybe more like this." This time, the kiss was still soft, but with her mouth open just that small amount, was so much deeper.

Distantly, her logical mind was cataloging all the details so later she'd be able to remember the moment perfectly. His hand on her cheek, his finger on her lips, her chin, then his hand moving to her waist; their fingers tangled together between them; and the noises coming from her that she wasn't controlling in the very least. She could picture it all, as it was happening, behind her closed eyes, and there she wasn't tired looking in disheveled clothing, and her hair wasn't a reminder of what a broken person she was.

It all ended too soon, though the great breath Cassandra took when she had the opportunity probably meant the kiss ended when it needed to.

"I think this is something we should continue later, when we have no more commitments for the day."

There was no hiding or fighting her disappointment, but she knew that was the most sensible thing to do. Otherwise, this was something Cassandra felt like she could do for the rest of the day. "I… Yes. But-"

Jarett cut her off with a shorter but no less sweet kiss. "Later, unless you change your mind."

"No chance."

He chuckled and pressed his forehead to hers. "I will you see you for dinner, if I am invited of course."

"Please do. I uh…." Cassandra looked away; she had forgotten how things worked because Whitestone had been in such a state of vaguely organized chaos. "Consider this an open invitation to meals here." Smiling almost shyly now, she looked back at him with a quick glance at her hand still clutching his armor. "I feel like I should have said that many days ago." With effort, she let go of him, fingers aching from the strength of her grip, and smoothed out the rumpled material. "Sorry about that."

"I am not." Jarett stood, still holding her hand, and bowed. "Until this evening, My Lady."

"I'll be waiting." Cassandra resisted to urge to hold on to his hand, just sighing as he pulled it away.

*

Even though the day was over half gone, Cassandra took the time to get ready properly. She brushed her hair, and then took her time to pin it up, doing her best to tuck the white beneath as much of her normal hair as she could. Every time, every single time, she watched people's eyes look at her face then focus very obviously on her hair, and she loathed it. She hated it, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Yet it gave her, to people that weren't necessarily familiar with the situation in Whitestone, the illusion that she was older, wiser, and more experienced than she actually was. It had helped smooth over things when the flood of refugees had arrived, but five years was a steep price to pay for that.

At least she had her own future in her hands to handle terribly and watch fall into the sea (metaphorically of course--the sea was too far away for her to view even from the highest point in the castle). Still, Cassandra had those forgotten imaginings of fancy parties

_ honored guests from Wildmount _

where she'd get all dressed up, and she'd be introduced to all the visiting nobility and dignitaries, and there'd be dancing, and she'd meet some boy that her parents wanted her to get to know better

_ and the slaughter of her entire family _

The Lady of Whitestone was never going to have party like that, never going to invite anyone into the castle ever again.

Wrenching herself out of those thoughts, Cassandra saw her reflection in the mirror looking like a trapped animal. One with very tidy hair, but still an animal.

That was something she had to face though, she was starting to realize. Jarett's digging didn't necessarily make her feel  _ better _ , but it things were more… controlled. He could talk to her from a position of neutrality, with a sympathetic understanding of how much she needed support.

One person who wasn't beholden to Vox Machina.

There had to be more to it than that. There  _ had _ to be, or what was she doing? She was getting ready for  _ him _ , not for herself or her position. This wasn't right, not for her to be doing. It was irresponsible, putting herself in such a vulnerable position. Safety wasn't the question though; it was simply how much advantage he could take of her if he wished, and the way she'd been acting, she never would have noticed or cared.

Cassandra unpinned her hair, letting it fall all around her face, the white standing out starkly. This time, she pulled it back into a messy tail and used a silver clip to hold it back. Her clothing was fine, but she took off the silken scarf and gold necklace, making her look, in her estimation, much more like a teacher than any kind of nobility.

That was fine. She'd never consider herself nobility anyway, but at least she was feeling less like a prisoner now.

Maybe it was time to talk with Salda and not wait.

*

Jarett was watching her very seriously, which wasn't unexpected because Cassandra knew she was frowning. "Salda will be taking Hunin and Kyor when she returns to Emon. I feel…." Oh gods, she was actually tearing up and she had no idea why.

"Do you not want them to go?" he asked so gently, if he hadn't been on the opposite side of the table, she would have thrown herself into his arms.

"I don't know. It's strange. I know she'll take care of them, certainly better than what they're getting here, and she has children so she knows what to do with them. What could I ever offer?"

"You offered them, and so many others, in the time being what they needed: safety."

"I suppose." But the thought of them leaving still felt like a leaded ball in her gut. "I should have done more. I should have done enough that they don't need to leave. Whitestone should be better than a city half-destroyed by a dragon!"

"Were they happy here?" Jarett asked, ignoring the outburst.

His refusal to join her in her outrage deflated it immediately, and Cassandra slumped her shoulders. "I suppose. They never look  _ un _ happy."

"Then why would you think Whitestone needs to be better than what your current efforts are making it? Emon is a city that dwarfs Whitestone; surely you cannot expect this-"

"Not helping. Not at all. I've heard the people, the ones who don't recognize me, talk about what a  _ small  _ town we are, and how could we have possibly survived when the great city of Emon was devastated. That Whitestone isn't worthy-"

Jarett grabbed her hands and squeezed, just short of being painful. "Whitestone is worthy of protection.  _ You _ are worthy. The people who never left, who survives just as you did, are all worthy. Those others will leave, and then you will have only those who wish to stay. You must give it time, even if it means letting go of those you wish to keep."

It was a like a knife in the gut, and Cassandra's eyes opened wide as she looked at him. "...You?"

Her squeezed her hands again, and shook his head. "No. I am staying, but you know others will not be. Perhaps some you have grown close to as well."

But the truth was she hadn't grown close to anyone really, didn't know how, and she didn't trust them. IIt was most likely hurting Whitestone for her to attempt to be in charge, and she needed to hand all this political nonsense over to people who were competent as soon as she could.

"I see."

Her silence was answer enough. It probably told him more than any words she would have used to explain. Cassandra sniffled, a stray tear rolling down her cheek. "They'll be better off with her. I just don't know what I'll tell my brother."

"The truth."

"Just like that? The truth."

He nodded, and lifted her hands to brush a kiss across one knuckle before releasing them completely. "It is not a conversation you need to have alone, if you are that concerned over his reaction."

Concerned might have been a strong word, because how Percy reacted to anything going on in Whitestone was  _ not  _ her concern, not as long as he chose to avoid his responsibilities. "I'm tired of explaining things, because I  _ will _ get accused of  _ something _ , even if the logic is sound and it's in the best of interest of the boys. He just loves to do that. Always has."

Jarett clucked his tongue. "But you are an adult now; the only influence he has over you now is what you allow. I think you are talking yourself out of this conversation, following a thread to the worst conclusion to make the decision to not have the conversation in the first place."

"It's just more pressure all because of something that's not even my-" Cassandra huffed and looked at her hands, especially the spot Jarett had kissed. "It's just frustrating. If they had brought those boys back at any other time, I mean, well, not any because there has been a long time this hasn't been a good place, but without all this distress, this would have been very different." She looked up, smiled at Jarett, and continued, "Not completely different maybe."

"Not completely, I agree."

That statement was enough to disperse the stress Cassandra felt over the whole situation with Hunin and Kyor; she'd have to fight to accept it, but this was what was best for them, and Vox Machina just didn't get a say in the matter at this point.

Still, she was ready to take the blame, because that was what she was good at. Probably the only thing she was good at. "I'm so glad you're here," she whispered, her smile turning pained for a moment.

"I am happy to help in whatever small way I can."

There were many people willing to help in small ways, but not  _ exactly  _ the way he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terrible oversight on my part that by this point in time (per the actual show) the council is up and running, though details are never given really about it. So... whenever there's a mention about the council not working or being organized, just think of it more as they're still finding their footing.
> 
> I kept the conversation with Salda off-screen because it just really wasn't necessary, and hadn't been something I was anticipating (so I have no Salda voice, and other than "Here's Salda!" the conversation just wasn't necessary to present--sorry, Salda fans). It also kind of pinches the continued idea that Cassandra is isolated (by her own unfortunate choice), and that isolation is actually what drives her. It doesn't always drive her in a healthy direction, but right now it's still something she's hanging onto.
> 
> And make no mistake, she has her own abandonment issues, and is horribly divided about how she feels about Percy.
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.tumblr.com


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner, a conversation, and a scary question.

"You should eat. I know you barely ate a thing at lunch."

"And that's your fault." But Cassandra picked up a fist-sized biscuit and open it to slather butter on the inside. "But since I know you'll just harp on me the entire time, and I am hungry, I'll eat something." She took a bite, and then made a  _ happy now? _ expression with raised eyebrows.

Satisfied, if only for the moment, Jarett took a small bite of food. They watched one another eat.

It was kind of awkward in the way watching other people eat always is, but that awkwardness slowly transformed to a silent, narrow-eyed challenge. What the stakes were was unimportant; it only mattered that they were very carefully, almost playfully, watching one another eat. At least Cassandra thought it was playful; Jarett's demeanor was difficult to read, especially when he had such intensity in his eyes.

"Mr. Howarth," Cassandra finally said, still several bites of the biscuit left, "is there a problem?"

"Of course not, My Lady. I am simply considering the view." His gaze didn't waver.

"And what do you think of it?" Internally Cassandra was cringing because she didn't want him to answer that question at all. Better to not know than to hear him say that she was-

"Very pleasing. I find the longer I take it in, the more I appreciate it."

In an instant, Cassandra was blushing, and she looked down at her plate. "I think you're probably mistaken about what you're seeing."

"I like to think I have a good eye for such things. At the very least, I know what pleases me, and in the end I find that is what matters most."

She was blushing harder, ducking lower and lower until her nose was almost touching the food on her plate. "Stop. Really."

"If you insist."

While she wasn't looking at him, she could hear the shrug in his voice. Under other circumstances, it might annoy her, but here it only added to her embarrassment. "Jarett, please. I don't deserve that. You must have seen beautiful women before. I'm not-"

"I have seen women with beauty to rival the sun and the night sky, but they did not interest me because they were not interesting people."

There was a look of something close to fatigue on his face. "I'm sorry I make you try to fix me. That's not your responsibility." She looked up and managed a quick smile. "If anyone should know better, it's me."

Jarett's brow furrowed, and he scratched his cheek as he finally looked away from her face to the window. "No, that is not the issue. You have never ordered me to do anything I disagreed with; there is no one to blame. No, I was simply considering how I mishandled my youth."

"Oh." It was Cassandra's turn to furrow her brow. "Your youth? How old were you when you were around all these beautiful women?" And yes, maybe she was a little jealous, but it was of so many things in Jarett's story that bringing attention to them seemed a waste of time.

"It was… not long before I left. I thought I was more important than one faceless boy in a city of thousands. Just one dirty face, begging and stealing out of boredom, an ego bigger than all of Marquet…." Jarett laughed to himself before shrugging. "Bad decisions."

"Is this where I'm supposed to say you were so young and didn't know better, then suddenly reflect on myself?"

"No, but who would it hurt if you did?"

"Nobody, but my intelligence would be brutally insulted." Cassandra pinched her lips hard for a moment as she sat back in her chair; dinner was forgotten once more. "I know they took advantage of me, how young I was. How sheltered I was. It could have been any one of us, but it was me. There was only one reason for that."

"Did you ever, if I may ask, come to understand what they were doing?"

This was a question she'd been asked countless times, by so many different people. Her answer hadn't changed. "No." But…. "They wanted me alive though, for the end. Everything before that was just a bonus."

_ "Careful with her, you stupid woman! We need her alive." _

_ Delirious with pain and fever, Cassandra wasn't sure she wasn't hallucinating the scene happening right at her bedside. _

_ "She'll be fine," Ripley said. "A simple-urk!" _

_ Sylas Briarwood lifted her by the throat. "We need her  _ alive _. If anything happens to her, you will take her place." _

"Nothing good," she said. "I wish I did know though, no matter what kind of nightmares it might have given me. It would have been the one good thing to come out of all of it. SIlver linings and all that." Feeling oddly contemplative, not sick or sad as she did after those memories, Cassandra picked up her fork and poked at her food.

After a few minutes of silence, just sitting and letting her mind clear, her appetite made itself known once more, and she began to eat slowly.

Jarett also ate shortly after she did, and this time that was all they did.

"Are you making sure I eat?"

With a fork almost to his mouth, Jarett looked at her. "Yes."

"You are no fun."

The fork finished its path to Jarett's mouth as he watched her and raised a single eyebrow.

In an instant, the heat started to climb Cassandra's neck, and she knew she started to blush. "Rude," she mumbled before starting to eat again.

Eventually, she just couldn't eat more even though there was still food left. Cassandra's appetite was not what the kitchen believed it to be, but the idea of going down there and telling them to make less felt odd. They would know better than she would how much food needed to be made, wouldn't they?

"You look finished." Jarett's plate was clean while hers was hardly half empty.

"I am. I feel like I'm being fattened up for spring-" Cassandra clenched her jaw to cut off the next word.

_ Slaughter. _

"If you believe you are undeserving of food, I will be here for every meal, and force you to eat if I must."

"Force me to eat? Even if that was how I felt, you couldn't force me to eat." It felt good to be defiant, even if only in theory.

Jarett tapped his chin before eventually nodding. "Perhaps."

With a snort, Cassandra pushed back her chair. "Perhaps. I suppose if that's the only concession I'm going to get from you, dinner is at an end." It had already been, but she had no reply of substance for him; she was fairly confident he wouldn't force her to eat, but couldn't be completely sure of it.

Jarett was frustratingly stubborn.

But so was she. "Mr. Howarth," Cassandra said as she straightened her jacket, "would you mind escorting me to my chambers?"

He was also insightful enough to know what she was implying. "Of course, My Lady."

His offered arm and hers linking with it was natural now, and didn't feel at all odd or awkward to step out into the hall like that, even with her guard waiting out there. "I feel like I should dismiss him," she whispered to Jarett. "Because you know I plan on inviting you in."

"And you know this night nothing will happen," he whispered in return.

The pout, however heartfelt, was exaggerated, and she nudged Jarett with her elbow. "How disappointing." A firm nod at the thought popping unbidden into her mind. "You know, I don't care. It's my business, isn't it? Well, yours too." Cassandra smiled at Jarett. "But who cares? Ultimately, what difference does it make? Am I just supposed to never…  _ do _ anything? And I trust you, probably more than almost anyone else in Whitestone."

"I hope you put your trust in those that remained loyal. There are many good people that-"

"Yes, but I'm not inviting any of them to my room." A quick glance at him. "Don't look at me like that. Yes, I trust them to watch over the city. No, I don't trust them with what I've asked of you. What kind of person do you think I am?" The whole conversation was so ridiculous, Cassandra couldn't keep the incredulous half-grin away.

That he picked up on as well and patted her arm. "Very unique, and someone I feel privileged to know. Getting to know. And," he added quietly, "I never said I was refusing your invitation. Merely that things will not go far. That is much too fast."

That hadn't been what she'd been thinking, because he was absolutely correct. Being deflowered and given a handshake before he walked out the door was not what she was looking for. Knowledge was her desire, and there was some level of experience that went with that; before she'd approached the whole thing from a careful distance because it wasn't personal. Jarett had made it personal in a way she hadn't expected, and without any effort, she'd dived straight into it.

"Jarett, have you ever been in love?"

"No," he answered immediately, his posture changing so he was as far away from her as he could be without letting go of her arm.

"Hm. Neither have I."

_ I think _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much of note here. Didn't expect this to sequence to run several parts, but Cassandra just has this neverending series of things she needs to deal with, so they keep talking, and now they're flirting too. Or Jarett's low-level flirting and Cassandra is being flirted with.
> 
> (I am THE worst about responding to comments here. I never know what to say, though I appreciate the shit out of all of them. I think it's the strange public nature of them. But if anyone wants to start a dialogue, responding to an update post on my fandom tumblr there will get a response.)
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.tumblr.com


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's practical. She's nervous. She's scared, but she's not SCARED. And he's so helpful and considerate, to stop would be silly and unproductive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super mild warning for brief over-the-clothes consensual fondling near the end.

As they reached the door to her chambers, Cassandra fought the urge to look at the guard following them. It was better to just accept the presence of the guard and not call attention to this awkward situation. "If you were in his position," she whispered and gestured with her shoulder to what was supposed to be behind herself, "what would you think?"

"I would think nothing of it because that is not my concern. Perhaps I would be more vigilant, because there are no guarantees in life, but…." With a shrug, Jarett glanced back. "They are loyal."

Loyal to Whitestone was Cassandra's worry. It made sense, and she would never demand loyalty to herself over the city, but that could also mean the spread of gossip. "I want them to be loyal to Whitestone, not to  _ me _ , but I need…." Respect she hadn't earned. Support she didn't deserve. Help she didn't warrant. "I guess just whatever is best for the city." She whispered, at an even lower volume than before, "I betrayed them."

"Unless you wish to explain everything that happened, there is nothing you can do except move forward."

"You've told me that before, haven't you?"

"I believe I have."

"Damn. It must be tiresome, dealing with me, repeating the same things to try and prop my ego up."

Jarett stepped closer once more, his arm squeezing hers and effectively pulling her closer still. "It is not tiresome, and your ego has nothing to do with it. In fact, I would say it needs a boost; you are…." He exhaled heavily and opened the door for her. "Please."

Entering, keeping her arm through his for as long as possible, Cassandra twirled around and extended her arm in invitation. "I don't want to  _ insist _ , but… I insist."

Chuckling quietly and nodding, Jarett entered the room and shut the door behind him. "Cassandra, I was serious about what I said."

"I know. I wasn't expecting it. But I have to start somewhere, right? I'm nothing if not overly realistic."

He watched her for a long moment, not much space between them, and with his hand still on the door handle. "Of course. This makes me very nervous though, I hope you understand."

"If you say you don't want to hurt me, then just walk away right now. I'm not worried about being hurt." Cassandra laughed, actually amused. "The pain from actually having sex, the moment of it, can't compare to what I've already experienced."

"You-"

"My mother made sure we were all informed on the basics as soon as we were old enough to understand. She was very practical; not something I appreciated until much later." Cassandra went to the fireplace and stoked the flames a little higher. "She wasn't really a noble, I don't think. Or she wasn't the first daughter of the family. I never knew much about her side of the family, and I haven't bothered looking at the official papers." She shrugged as she watch ed the dancing flames. "Seemed like a waste of time."

Jarett approached, but remained a respectful distance away, still standing. "It is only my opinion, but she sounds like she was a good mother."

"I like to think so. But I don't like to think of it too often." There was a lot she'd forgotten about her mother, and father, and siblings, and sometimes she thought it was better to to not  _ try _ . Just let their memories rest so as not to dredge up anything that might ruin what little she had left of them. "I do miss her though. Miss her presence. I… I don't know if I actually miss  _ her _ ." She looked back at Jarett. "I know that makes me awful, but I just…."

With a heavy sigh, Cassandra abandoned the fireplace, the flames much higher than she'd first meant to get them, and stood. "It's a fight just to stay afloat."

He raised an arm toward her, and she stepped into it, curling herself against his chest. "It's getting better I think," she said, voice muffled as he put his arms around her.

It was a relief that he didn't say anything; she was tired of the weak attempts at comfort that always included how things would get better over time. Whether it was true or not, it always felt like she was being told that she needed to get over it, that it was time to let go.

Cassandra wasn't sure it would ever be time to let go completely, not when so much effort had been put forward into taking it all away from her in the first place. She'd abandoned fighting far too soon, and that was something, a terrible mistake, not to be repeated.

Maybe no one else would think of the history of Whitestone and consider her parents and siblings as part of it, but Cassandra did. She would not forget; she would not 'move on'; she would keep fighting, no matter how horrible a struggle it was.

His hand rubbed up and down her back several times before Jarett pressed a kiss to her temple.

With a sigh, this one more relaxed than before, Cassandra slipped her arms around Jarett's waist. "Thank you." And the best thing: he wouldn't ask why she'd said that. This was a time she didn't have the words to tell him why, and she didn't have the courage to tell him how much.

"Here," he said quietly, "we can sit."

A nod against him, and Cassandra moved with him, following his lead, until he started to sit. They separated so they could sit next to each other with his arm still around her back, not holding her in place, but just being a comforting warmth.

"Should I go?"

"No. It's fine. I'm fine."

"Do you wish to continue?"

She looked up at him, surprised at his closeness when she shouldn't have been, and nodded. "More than anything."

Briefly, the corners of his mouth lifted in fond amusement, the look in his eyes soft and understanding in the dancing light from the fireplace, and Jarett lowered his head. "Deep breath," he told her, and swept his lips across hers.

She could feel the smile he was wearing as he did so, and couldn't help but smile in return as she followed his movements. It was a heady sensation, just imitating what he was doing, with that swirling, sinking feeling of her stomach building and the pressure in her chest building and teh desire to grab onto him building-

Cassandra pulled back and took a huge, shivering breath. She hadn't consciously closed her eyes, but here she was opening them to look at his mouth. Just at his mouth and the way he wet his lips with the tips of his tongue, and that sinking turned into a flip-flop and jolt that went straight down from there.

It was encouraging that when he spoke, Jarett's voice was low and throaty, a thing she'd never heard from him before, and as the words came from his mouth, he was leaning in once more. "May I unbutton your jacket?" There was no wait for an answer as he kissed her again, lips parted to gently capture and pull at her own.

While it seemed impossible to catch her breath, Cassandra was fine with it. It was a hundred different sensations all making themselves known at once at she was trying to both ignore them and understand them. When Jarett's tongue just touched her upper lip, it was like a swarm of bee was buzzing inside her, and she could no longer resist grabbing onto his vest just to be touching him.

Against his mouth, breathing heavily, she said, "Just don't pop any buttons off."

Another brief kiss. "I would not dream of it, Lady Cass-"

"Don't call me that here, like this. I don't want to be the Lady of Whitestone. I just want to be me, whoever that is." And with the realization that the delicious buzzing in her was now dying, she frowned. "Just Cassandra." Finally she took the lead, less clumsy and forceful than before, and was rewarded in an instant by Jarett's more insistent contact.

But it was frustrating too, because she couldn't stop concentrating on every little thing his hands were doing, even just the pressure of one of them on the bed between them. Certainly not when the other settled on her stomach, fingers spread to cover as much as possible.

Jarett fumbled, because of course he would while he wasn't watching what he was doing and unrelenting with his kisses, mouth opening wider and coaxing her to do the same, but Cassandra wasn't going to pause to help him. Not now. He would just have to learn, the same way she was learning.

But each button did slip free, and while her jacket wasn't tight, it was definitely fitted, and when it opened she felt a little bit like she was set free. Finally she could relax, slouch even, because if she couldn't slouch in her own bed, there was no safe space in the world for her.

Another pause to breathe, and Jarett said, "Tell me if anything I do is not to your liking. Anything at all."

"O-Oka-"

"I want to touch you."

Without thinking, Cassandra crossed her ankles. "I don't k-"

"This is something you are not ready for. My apologies." Jarett sat back, putting a good distance between the two of them. "I should not have presumed this was something you wanted. I forgot myself."

"No!" Cassandra replied, her hand tightening on his vest, holding him in place. "No, it's not that at all. I just-" It all had to start somewhere. "Nervous," she ended, and released her grip. Swallowing thickly and taking a deep breath, she started to undo the tiny buttons of her silken shirt.

Jarett placed his hand over hers. "That is unnecessary if you find it troubling. I do not-"

"I know, I know. Nothing I don't want. It's not that I  _ don't _ , just that it's…." She blinked, looked at Jarett, and realized: "Scary." But not scary in the way that being the prisoner of a death-worship couple was. Scary that he would think she was ugly, or-

"I was going to say you do not need to remove any clothing, as a place to start." He drew his eyebrows together. "I am making assumptions. I am…. I am making this about myself, and not what you want." He started to lean in again, but stopped before getting  _ too  _ close. "I find you-" His voice dropped to a rough whisper, from the back of his throat, reducing it to a near growl. "-desirable."

The jolt, buzzing, and flip-flop of her stomach happened all at once. "I-I want it." She looked very studiously at the small triangle of exposed flesh that his open collar revealed, then touched there with two fingertips. "I want you."

Jarett's left hand settled on her stomach, the heat of it much more pronounced with only her shirt between it and her bare skin. "You need only tell me to stop, at any time."

Cassandra nodded, and even if there hadn't been a guard in the hall, she knew a single word from her and Jarett would be true to his word. Even though his hand was on her, he was not moving otherwise, leaving the decision ultimately to her. Just because a thing was said didn't mean actions that agreed with them would follow, or that the words wouldn't be twisted to suit the following actions. These were things Cassandra was  _ very  _ familiar with.

But rather than dwell on such things, because, gods, dwelling on the way those five years had twisted her thinking was the last thing she wanted, Cassandra lifted her head to meet his gaze (she could see the low level of concern in his eyes even when it didn't need to be there), and said, "I don't want to think about things, anything, just for a little bit." Without waiting for his response, because he'd been waiting on her, she leaned up for a kiss, trying to imitate what he'd done earlier, to coax him the way he'd done.

There was no delay from Jarett, picking up right where they'd left off, not sliding back to those initial clumsy kisses, and for a a few tense seconds, Cassandra wondered, waiting for  _ it _ . Waiting for the moment he would do something  _ more _ . But then his other hand moved from the bed between them to the back of her neck, fingers working their way into the hair loose from the clip, just resting there. It was enough of a distraction that she released the  _ waiting _ , let her body relax, and settled her own hand on his thigh.

She squeezed lightly, and let her hand slide further down to his knee, then back up again. For whatever reason, probably one she would never understand, or would ever need to, this ignited a fire in her. The heat of it eclipsed all the other sensations from before, made them seem weak and childish in comparison. She was just considering moving her hand up and further in when there was a sudden, fundamental shift.

Jarett leaned more heavily into her, turning his body, and moved his hand from her stomach, sliding up her ribs, inside her jacket, to cup her breast.

It was all like a tide she was very willingly being swept away on, and if it meant she never had to return to Whitestone, Cassandra would remain out at sea forever as long as Jarett was with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a weird place to stop. Frankly, I'm tired of writing Jarett being delicate and Cassandra being unsure, not to mean I just want to write them fucking like animals, but I don't want to drag these scenes out too much. So I've cut this bit short to not make anyone read more of this middling behavior from them. I mean, when Jarett said nothing's going to happen, so it's going to be brief anyway. (Anything explicit I think I'll make it's own chapter so it's easily skippable for those who aren't interested, and will keep thematic and plot elements outside of those as much as humanly possible. There will be "explicit" conversations about sex outside those chapters, because those will be important to Cassandra's character.) I'm also looking forward to writing a conversation between Jarett and Trisha. :)
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.tumblr.com


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Distractions, both of the pleasurable kind and unpleasant kind, set Cassandra to attempting to be productive for a day. Whitestone business doesn't stop for her to get her personal life together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual talk, but no acts. A little bit of gore warning, but nothing in bloody detail.

Cassandra stared up at the dark ceiling of her room. The fire was low, just glowing coals, and she'd extinguished her lamp what felt like hours ago. Sleep had eluded her though, even though she was warm and cozy, comfortable in her soft bed and beneath blankets pulled up to her chin.

_ He hadn't stopped; she didn't want him to stop. She went almost completely limp, falling away from his touch, to lay back on the bed. _

_ Jarett's pupils were huge as he looked at her. "I said nothing would happen," he told her, and there was an unmistakable note of regret in his voice, "and as much as I to-to…." He licked his lips and leaned so he could whisper, breath tickling her, lips brushing against the rim of her ear. "As much as I want to lift your skirts and spread your legs so I can teach you what you want to know-" He sat back up. "I cannot. Not now." _

_ Cassandra's eyes fluttered shut, and her own regret came out as a soft groan. Begging wouldn't work, she knew, and she wouldn't do it either. No, this night was at a very frustrating end. Somehow, even though she  _ knew _ his words were as good as a promise for the future, it only made everything that much worse. _

_ Leaning in for a last, lingering kiss, Jarett cupped her cheek. "I meant every word I said to you. I will see you tomorrow, but perhaps not for lunch. I found it very distracting." _

_ She smiled in return, eyes half-lidded. "Dinner then." As she watched him leave, there was an insistent throbbing between her legs. _

Sleep simply wouldn't come, no matter how tired she was. Her thoughts were a horrible jumble, and every one of them demanded her careful consideration. The worst of them was when she considered her thoughts in those moments, when she wasn't stunned by the fact that someone was actually touching her

_ Touching her breast. With a sexual intent. _

and how utterly  _ imbecilic _ they were.

Silly things, stupid dream-like ideas about- Well, better that she hadn't spoken any of it aloud, or Jarett would have gone and certainly  _ not _ taken her with him. She wasn't thick; there'd been no hiding his reaction when she asked if he'd been in love. He found her "desirable" but he didn't love her, not that Cassandra expected him to.

She just wanted some perspective, because she definitely had no clue on what it felt like. Who was to say she wasn't in love with him? And she'd end up asking someone else, and they'd laugh at her, and she'd be humiliated all over again.

Poor little noble who doesn't know what it feels like to be in love. She deserved to stay in the castle all by herself, thinking she's so much better than everyone else.

If there was some way to make those thoughts go away permanently, she'd pay someone to tell her, and then go to lengths that might surprise her brother to make it happen.

Cassandra reached behind her head and pulled a pillow free. She put it over her face, putting more weight across her mouth than any other point, and started to talk.

_ Pelor, please. I'm doing my best. I'm trying to make things better, but I don't know how. I didn't want any of this, but I won't walk away from it or the people. _

To say she hated going to the temple was too strong, but but she only went before with her parents for the designated holy days. That had been about ceremony, not personal belief. It was hard to believe there even was a Pelor since they'd allowed such evil and darkness to befall Whitestone.

This was what she was reduced to: praying for help because she found it nowhere else.

She wished Jarett were there to talk to. Even when what he said sounded like a soothing mound of horse shit, it helped, if only her peace of mind.

Cassandra removed the pillow, sighing as she looked out the window nearest her bed. It was a clear sky, moonless, and though night wasn't Pelor's domain, she had to believe a god would be able to hear her. If it existed. If it cared, even though she'd spent most of her life  _ not _ caring.

Situating the pillow back under her head, Cassandra turned to her side so she could look out the window. Forcing her thoughts to quiet every time they started to demand attention, she managed to sleep watching the stars above.

***

Breakfast was brief. Cassandra ate as quickly as she could, gulping her tea between bites of bacon and biscuits and spiced sausages. A single hard-boiled egg that she ate in four very undignified bites ended the meal, and before anyone could ask if she wanted more, she was gone.

The previous pair of days had ruined her small stack of paperwork that needed finishing. It was now inexcusably tall, and if she didn't buckle down and put a dent in it now, she'd never recover, and she'd never hear the end of it.

Sitting behind her desk, flexing her fingers in preparation for the amount of times she was going to have to sign her name, Cassandra said, "I thought this was what a council was for."

And she knew they were trying, but people still looked, for some reason, to her, a de Rolo, for leadership; it must have been out of habit. So yes, while her opinion on crops and prices and trade and everything else under the sun meant nothing, it meant  _ everything _ .

Really, this council….

But Salda had given her a few tips, and with her efforts previously to be more diligent with knowing what she was signing, Cassandra was able to sort through the stack to find things she could sign immediately without more than a cursory glance, and set aside things that she thought needed to more thorough reading. It made the work go much faster, and she was working her way through the the longer documents when she was interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

"Yes."

The door opened and Ava slipped in with a small tray. "Lunch, My Lady."

Rubbing her eyes, now realizing how tired they were from staring at the cramped and overly stylized writing all morning, Cassandra nodded. "Thank you." A look at the tray, all the things she was used to seeing at lunch, and she asked, "Could you bring a pitcher of water? I think I'll be here until dinner."

With a polite curtsy and soft smile, Ava said, "Of course, My Lady."

Asking her to call her anything other than that had failed repeatedly, because it was one thing with the men she had to deal with, and the guard, but for this never sat quite right. Cassandra felt like Ava was more of a contemporary, if not an equal (because that had been drilled into her since she was old enough to walk, that she was  _ above _ other people); the word 'servant' never sounded good, even in just her head.

Cassandra tried, and treated them all with respect and kindness, and there wasn't much more she could do.

_ Even though so many had betrayed her family. Betrayal was a fact of life, and they all had respected power, not kindness, so why- _

No. No, that wasn't right. Cassandra closed her eyes, hands balled into fists, and bowed her head. That wasn't right. That bitterness was a reflection of the past, of herself in her darkest moments of contemplation. That wasn't a consideration of the future. She couldn't allow it to be.

_ The chair was heavy, but she managed to raise it above her head just long enough to bring it crashing down on her vanity, shattering the mirror and breaking two legs off the chair. Her arms shook from the exertion; she hadn't eaten in three days. The guards had taken to intercepting her meals and delivering an empty plate with sneers or cruel laughter. They reveled in the power they held over, the last de Rolo.  _

_ "Stuck up bitch, always thinking she's better than us. Bet the Briarwoods wouldn't even be bothered if you had an accident." _

Had it been so bad? She never knew, she was too young. Her mother had taught her that, that respect was important no matter their station, and they'd gone and-

"Stop. Stop stop stop," Cassandra said aloud, and put her head down on her fists.

_ "You're more important than them, dear girl. Think nothing of that bit of trash." _

_ The guard stared at nothing, one ruined eye dribbling down his cheek, armor smeared with blood. _

_ Delilah held her in some semblance of affection as Cassandra shivered, unable to look away from the pool of blood and entrails on the floor. _

And in the end, that betrayal took them all to oblivion, though it did nothing to make her feel any better. It did nothing to ease the memories or keep the nightmares at bay. Those who deserved to die did so, just the same as those who didn't.

The moral implications of Cassandra determining who  _ deserved _ to die and who didn't wasn't a concern, not after what she'd been through. Some of those people  _ did _ , and that was it. What such thoughts said about her came five years too late. Survival and the Briarwoods had nearly beat the morals out of her, so those lapses were just things she had to internalize and struggle with on her own.

"My Lady?"

Cassandra's head shot up to find Ava looking at her with wide, worried eyes.

"I knocked, but you didn't answer." She had a pitcher in one hand and goblet in the other.

"Of course. I'm just tired. Thank you."  _ Please just put it down and leave. _

Eyeing her with open concern, Ava set down the water. "Is there anything else you need?"

"No, thank you. I'll be fine until dinner."  _ Don't make me tell you to leave me alone, please. _

"Yes, My Lady."

As Ava left, just before the door closed, Cassandra could hear the beginning of a whispered conversation in the hall. Damn it.

This was all fine. This she could deal with. Cassandra closed her eyes once more and took deep breaths. Just relax with lunch, then get back to the paperwork. When her desk was clear, she could take the time let the memories work their out. They were awful, but they weren't quite as bad. No, it was her own thoughts that were getting the best of her now, that she had to put more energy into combating.

The tea was soothing, and it was like the cooks knew what she needed when she ate the pair of shortbread cookies on the plate first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That first bit I still feel a bit weird about. I have to constantly remind myself of the ages of the characters because I keep thinking of Jarett as being much older than he is, and forgetting Cassandra is older. Their experiences have affected their outlooks on life in the opposite ways. BUT I am standing by it and not changing it, because it has become more personal than intended between the two of them. If it weren't, he wouldn't have said anything like that. And all that tempered by intrusive thoughts.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music, flowers, and second chances. One of those things doesn't make Cassandra angry.

The council had a meeting chamber that was for them and only them. It was where, in the odd hours, Cassandra put all the official documents regarding the business of Whitestone, It made her day much less stressful if she didn't have that paperwork, even finished, sitting on her desk.

There'd been vague talks of establishing a council meeting hall in the town, to make it more removed from the castle, to make it look less like the council was under her sway, but nothing had come of it yet. It would be slightly more inconvenient for her, but she looked forward to the greater separation, and having the castle be just for h-

The ziggurat. Cassandra hadn't been down there in a long while because there wasn't anything she could offer the people still researching the structure and the mysterious siphon. It would be nice to understand and be rid of both those things, but Cassandra didn't miss the absolute flood of people that had been around to study it.

It was the old music room, piano pushed into the corner and covered with dust to make room for the table and chair. That was fine; Cassandra had never been very good at it anyway, and it was currently the largest room not in use that gave a modicum of privacy. Better it get used like this, for the good of Whitestone, than sit empty. Most likely, unless something titanic shifted, there would never be someone in the castle to use the music room again, and it would be kinder to donate the piano to someone who would get some use out of it.

"My Lady?"

There were tear drops on the top document in Cassandra's hand. "It's nothing," she said quickly, and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "It's nothing." She tossed the stack of papers on the table and turned to quickly exit the room.

She couldn't give up the piano. Using the music room as a meeting room was temporary, and even if she never stepped foot into it again, it would return to being the music room eventually.

"I'm going to take a walk around the garden," she said over her shoulder. Not that she had to explain herself, but around the garden she didn't need a shadow. Being watched whenever she was outside her chambers or office was familiar, so that wasn't an issue; Cassandra just didn't want to make someone follow her when she could be easily seen from the doorway, not when she was just wool-gathering.

"Whatever you wish, My Lady."

The garden was just a courtyard planted with wildflowers and allowed to  _ almost _ completely overgrow, with just a stone pathway through the center. At either end was a clear area in front of a door, set up with metal benches. The old ones had been rusted and falling apart; she'd had them redone, and the garden replanted, just to make this a welcoming space once more.

Cassandra had picked flowers from here on many occasions, and had snowball fights with her siblings, and had finger sandwiches like a big girl with her mother.

It was horribly overgrown at the moment, no almost about it, but she walked the path anyway as the shadows grew deeper along the west wall. The sweet scent of a thousand flowers filled the area, and once she reached the opposite side, she sat on the bench there. The layout, as she observed was not ideal. A sitting area in the center, surrounded by flowers, would be better, then she could have lunch out here instead of always inside.

Winters were terribly cold, and summer could be unbearably hot, but there were times when the weather was pleasant enough to sit outside for extended periods of time.

"Hm," she said to herself and stood. This was something to put on her list of improvements to the castle. The outer garden was lovely, with enough room for a little fountain and some wonderfully groomed plant beds (still coming into their own after years of neglect), but it wasn't as serene and private as this courtyard. Perhaps this would be her legacy, assuming the vivid memories of the Briarwoods and her involvement could be scrubbed from history as anything other than a horrible fairy tale.

Cassandra stood and smoothed down her dress. Yes, in this time of transition, where responsibilities were still in flux between herself and the council, this was something she could organize.

And maybe she was procrastinating, considering pointless tasks, because otherwise she had nothing to do before dinner.

Dinner hadn't caused her such issues outside the Briarwoods, and never quite like this.

~

"My Lady."

Cassandra stopped and turned to see one of the regular castle guards. "Yes?"

From behind the guard stepped another man in the dress of the Pale guard. "My Lady." He bowed clumsily, hair falling into his eyes when he stood. His voice quavered.

"What do you want?" she asked, physically drawing herself back and up, like an animal with its hackles raised.

He flinched and ducked his head. "The supply of shot is running low. We have enough to continue training just through the end of the week."

Cassandra pursed her lips, nostrils flaring. "There's nothing I can do about that. You'll have to speak to my brother when he gets back." She cocked her head just barely and glared daggers.

Shrinking back, Kynan nodded. "Sorry," he mumbled before turning and almost breaking into a run.

When he was gone, echoing footfalls silent, she turned and continued on her way. Personal feelings aside, there was nothing she could do about that; she had zero knowledge of Percy's pet project other than the gold dedicated to it. Until he decided to properly detail it for her, she wasn't going to take any responsibility for it.

Once back in her office, Cassandra pulled out her personal journal. She kept no  _ actual _ journal, because those private thoughts were too damning in case someone else found it. No, this journal was mostly for Whitestone business, reminders of the things she wanted to get done. In large letters, she wrote her brother's name and underlined it four times. Beneath that, she noted simply: courtyard.

It was enough, and if she forgot what it meant, it wasn't important enough for her to worry about anyway.

There was a solid business-like knock, and without hesitation she called the person in. She was surprised to see Jarett. "Is there something wrong?" she asked and was honestly anxious over his appearance.

"Not as such." He shut the door and made to sit. "If I may?"

"Of course. So there's nothing wrong, but this is obviously not a social visit."

For a long moment, Jarett said nothing, thinking carefully by the look on his face. "I saw Kynan."

"Congratulations?"

"Do you not believe in second chances?"

_ Oh boy. _ "I do. And he has been given a second chance. That doesn't mean I have to like him after the part he played in killing my brother." Right away she knew she'd stepped into a trap, though Jarett wasn't aware of it. "And I am perfectly aware the part I played in almost killing my brother, a thing I will never forget or forgive myself for. So, please tell me how I'm just supposed to let that go."

"You are upset."

"You're damned right I am. They didn't even tell me. No one has ever  _ told _ me. But I could tell, because why else would they have been in the temple? Why else would they have been crying? Why couldn't he look me in the eye and tell me what happened? I heard enough to know." She shrugged, a scowl firmly in place now. "They think I'm not very smart, that five years has left me celestial-touched, and I can't understand what they're doing. If I weren't stuck here with all this-this  _ shit _ to deal with, I'd tell him to never come back!

"They saved Whitestone, but they don't deserve it." Cassandra slumped in her chair, angrier than she'd ever been at her brother and Vox Machina, and exhausted. "He killed my brother and was forgiven. What about me?" She put her hands over her eyes, half-covering her face. "But it's all about me. Fine. I'm selfish. I don't deserve forgiveness. You can go now."

The reply was slow to come, and when it did, it was even, almost kind: "Have you talked yourself through the argument now?"

"He has his second chance. I don't want him anywhere near me. End of argument." He was like a sad, wobbly reflection of herself, and she hated considering it because the anger always came forth. Being torn between wanting Percy there and wanting him to not bother coming back hurt her heart. "If he does nothing wrong, he has nothing to worry about. There. That's my decree. Is everyone happy now?"

Jarett watched her through the whole tirade, looking unimpressed and unaffected. He stood and bowed his head. "As you wish, Lady Cassandra." He went to go, and with his hand on the door, he said, "Are you feeling up to dinner? I would not want you to skip it."

Face feeling instantly aflame, Cassandra looked down and pretended to study the paper in front of her before she nodded. "Of course," she said curtly, but it lacked, very obviously, any real strength. Her voice had almost broken in the moment.

Another bow, this one deeper at the waist. "My Lady."

When the door shut and latched, Cassandra released her breath and sank back into her chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Kynan conversation (both with and about him) was something I'd been waiting for the right time to get to. VM understands Kynan's circumstances, how he came to be manipulated, but Cassandra just got handed this person who is possibly younger than she is (certainly not much older) and Percy put him in a position of responsibility. She was never given the whole story about Glintshore, which is worse than being told the ugly truth because all she can do is fill in the many huge blanks herself. And here's Kynan.
> 
> And everyone says he deserves a second chance, it wasn't his fault, and he's not a bad kid, and it was kind of Vax's and VM's fault in the first place, and guess what? She doesn't care because that is what people keep telling her, the ones that want to help, and she doesn't forgive herself. Why should she forgive Kynan?
> 
> Second chance, sure. He's still around, isn't he? But the Briarwoods have kind of ruined her empathy because she was with them for so long (while Kynan's time with Ripley was relatively short). Basically, her thoughts and feelings are still very inconsistent, and while she's angry at Percy, it's one of those 'only I'm allowed to hurt my brother' type of things. So yeah, Kynan is not high on her list of people she's happy to see in Whitestone.
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.tumblr.com


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the day goes better than earlier. A conversation proves to her that Whitestone is worth the effort even she's not sure how to carry it all out.

She'd been productive that day, even if she'd lost her temper. That was all she could ask for it seemed. That was generally all that was asked of her, so Cassandra considered it overall fine to relax and not worry about the next day.

That was the right thing to do, to endlessly consider what she would do the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that until her life was a series of planned tasks that all worked to building up Whitestone to never known glory.

Still, she had her journal with her in the sitting room as she waited for dinner. It might have seemed obsessive to anyone that knew what she was looking at, but as she thought about the things on her list, in this moment of quiet, ideas came forth on how they could be accomplished, how they could be improved, new ideas based on them, and some of the minutiae required to complete them.

She was no tinkerer, no inventor like Percy, but she had a creative mind, an analytical one in certain circumstances, that she hadn't realized until given this "opportunity". Under other circumstances, she would have liked to explore it more, but that was something of a luxury, a use of time she didn't really have to spare. Not to mention finding someone to teach her any finer points of all these things.

Most likely no one in Whitestone would have the experience, because realistically, they were downtrodden merchants and farmers, and any skilled tradesmen had been  _ used _ by the Briarwoods. And with that realization, Cassandra knew that she would have to go at some point to the larger cities to find people, smart people with the ambition and ideas, or Whitestone would be forever relegated to just a small, backwoods city lucky enough to have a valuable export.

She wrote down in her journal  _ people! _ and underlined it several times. How that would be ultimately accomplished she had no idea. To bring people, good people, not just people looking for refuge or a new start (not that there was anything wrong with that), Whitestone needed some sort of incentive beyond its simple existence.

_ Housing - improvements _ _   
_ _ Merchants/trade - storefronts _ _   
_ _ Inns & taverns - improvements _ _   
_ _ Beautification _ _   
_ __ Temples

"My Lady?"

Cassandra allowed the ink to dry before she shut the journal. The list grew longer faster than she could cross things off. "Yes, Ava. Thank you." Distracted, she watched blankly as Ava set down the tray of dinner dishes. "Ava, why did your family come to Whitestone?" Honestly, Cassandra had no clue about the young woman or her family, except that they'd survived the dark time.

Caught off guard, Ava stared, eyes wide. "W-what? I mean, I'm not sure what you're asking, M-"

"What about Whitestone drew your family here? I know the city has a long history, but it's not very remarkable, is it? It's all about the mountains." Idly, with the distant idea she should write down anything Ava happened to tell her, Cassandra tapped the cover of her journal. "I was thinking that to make Whitestone better, I need to know what brought people here in the first place. And what kept them here." Whatever there was to offer, it wasn't enough to keep people from returning to a half-ruined Emon.

_ That's unfair. They have homes and family, unfinished business, unfinished lives there. It's not a slight against Whitestone. _

But it felt like one. And the best she could do was to make it a decision and not an automatic thing to leave Whitestone.

"I-I don't know. My parents lived here. I don't know about my grandparents. We had no means of fleeing when…." She looked down at her feet. "When things turned."

That was a fair way to phrase it. Things certainly did  _ turn _ . "Are your parents still alive?" Cassandra asked, more gently than the conversation had begun and now paying close attention to Ava.

"My mother, but she doesn't get out anymore. She got sick, and nearly died. She's never been as healthy as she was before."

At this, Cassandra opened her journal and quickly scribbled down  _ healers? _ before turning her attention back to Ava. "And that's why you stay? For her sake?"

Ava shrugged. "She can't travel. We have no other place to go. I have a job here." She smiled shyly at Cassandra. "There's nothing wrong with Whitestone. I like it here now. I liked it before."

It was one person, but to hear that there was nothing  _ wrong _ with Whitestone was a relief. "I'm glad to hear that, but I'm going to try to make it better. I don't know what my parents had in mind, what they saw for the future, but I know we can be better."

"Of course, Lady Cassandra. I'm sure you'll be able to do great things." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I know many people who will support your efforts, no matter what any council says."

With only Percy, and him being gone so much, the people of Whitestone were her family, even if they didn't know it, even if they didn't like her. Why else would it hurt so much? "Tell them I appreciate that very much, from each of them, no matter what they do."

Ava curtsied, bowing her head, and said, "Good night, My Lady."

"Good night, Ava." There were times, as Ava left, that Cassandra would have liked to have an attendant, someone she could call on at any time of the day or night, but that was unfair. Sometimes she thought of them as servants, but that was just a mental shortcut. It might sound a little cold to explain it aloud, but money was all she could offer for service; anything else was done on good faith, and she knew damned well how far that  _ didn't _ go.

"My Lady, the door is open."

She looked up and favored Jarett with a tight smile, still thinking about all the things she wanted to see done in Whitestone. "I know. Come in. Close it behind you."

"You look busy. If I am interrupting-"

"Not at all. I think I had a very productive day." Cassandra could hear  in her own head how short she was though, and forced herself to relax. Before saying more, she sat at the table and started uncovering the plates. Instantly, the smell of food wafted into the air and made her smile. "I finished the outstanding paperwork on my desk this morning, then added to my list of improvements needed in the city. I'm not sure how soon, if ever, I'll get to them, but it's nice to dream."

She was not going to mention earlier. Kynan Leore was a non-subject, and certainly a non-concern.

"Interesting. I had no idea you had such goals for the city."

"Surprised you? That I might want to do more than just let the city fend for itself?"

"No, but that you had solid plans for doing so." Jarett sat across from her, but slowly and on the edge of the seat, as if he were ready to leave at a moment's notice.

"Still don't really have the opportunity really, too much organizing going, but when everything settles down a bit more…." She was nodding as she spoke. "I have ideas."

Finally, Jarett smiled, though it was tentative, as if he were unsure that it would be welcome. "If what you have done around the castle is an indication, then surely the city will benefit greatly." He pursed his lips before saying, "Earlier-"

"Forgotten." Not really, but it wasn't worth discussing. "I just hope you understand, and know that I don't… mistreat him because of what happened. I wouldn't mistreat anyone. "It was more important, in the moment, than anything that he know that and believe her. "You understand, right? I wouldn't-"

"I do. I understand. I hope that with time you will forgive him, for your own happiness."

"Maybe. I wouldn't bet on it being any time soon though." If not for the one little thing that happened to be her brother's death, Cassandra wouldn't have any problem with Kynan Leore. That one little thing was a huge deal though, and she couldn't change the way she felt so quickly or easily.

Planting one elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand, she asked, "How are you so calm about everything?"

"Living in poverty for most of my life has taught me patience. Patience through lack of means. I never quite realized it at the time, but now I look back and see. I see differently now than I did before, that is all."

Cassandra nodded That was something she understood; it seemed she was just lacking in perspective, and only time could fix that. If only they'd give her time, instead of expecting her to be perfect all the time.

"But I suppose that is a luxury you have not been afforded."

A wry smile. Eventually people would get it, they'd remember how old she was and had been forced into a position she'd never asked for, never really wanted.

"But I think that is not a dinner conversation, not today. Is there something else you might like to talk about?" Glancing repeatedly at her, Jarett began to divide the food between two empty plates.

"I'm going to redo the courtyard garden. As much as I like it, I'd also like to share it, and there's not really space for that now." She liked the flowers, liked the color, but she was beyond the simple freedom and beauty of a field of flowers now. "I think my mother would have liked that."

Nodding to herself, now satisfied with her day, even if it had been a little rocky in the middle, Cassandra picked up her silverware and started to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be a direct continuation of this, but will be posted on the same schedule (that's Friday).
> 
> I wanted to give Cassandra something to do that would leave her own stamp on Whitestone. If she's going to be forced to do the job, she's going to make sure people know it. Cassandra is being very honest when she talks about Kynan here; she has no idea what Percy or VM were thinking, but they trust him, and she's not going to fight that. At least not behind their backs. 
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.tumblr.com


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is taking advantage of whom? Is it really taking advantage of someone if it's what they want? They'll try to figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continues immediately after previous part. Haven't decided on how the next one will connect to this one yet.
> 
> I am terrible at chapter summaries. I realized when I was writing this one that yes, it is taking advantage of someone even if they want it. But that's not entirely applicable in this chapter. Cassandra and Jarett just need to find a very delicate balance , or just be brutally truthful with one another, which they probably aren't ready for.
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.tumblr.com

She sat next to him on the short sofa, first with generous space between them, but when he just looked at her, expression welcoming, Cassandra scooted closer.

Jarett put his arm up, along the back of the sofa, opening the space next to him. A simple nod of the head and lift of his eyebrows received a quirk of her lips before she moved closer still, fitting against him. Quietly, with hesitation, he said, "Earlier-"

"I told you," she said, stopping him, and putting her hand on his chest, "it doesn't matter. If I had been mistreating him, rather than dismissing him, it would have been warranted." Cassandra winced with a sudden realization. "And I'll keep in mind how it looks to others when I have to interact with him. It's not a good example. I really screwed that up, didn't I?"

"You have strong personal feelings that are not so easy to let go of. I just wanted to make sure they were not ruling you, or leading you to make decisions that were unwise for the prosperity of the city, the castle, and yourself."

Leaning against him, her head on the front of his shoulder as his arm was still extended, Cassandra nodded. "Thank you for watching out for me. I'm probably my own worst enemy now, especially while my brother's gone."

His chuckle was felt more than heard, and their conversation ended with that.

Carefully, to not disturb her position too much, his arm moved, curled in enough so that he could just run his fingertips through her hair, clipped to pull back from her face but otherwise free.

"I know you can't answer this, probably no one can," she started to say at a whisper, afraid to say it aloud in case whatever listening being decided to do it again, "but what did I do make this happen to me?"

His arm slipped around her, abandoning her hair, and pulled her closer still.

"What could I have done differently? How do I prevent it from happening again? Not just to me but to anyone else." Cassandra slid her arm around his waist and sighed. "When will I stop asking these questions?"

It wasn't necessary for Jarett to say anything. Cassandra knew the answer, but asked in hopes this time it would be different:  _ maybe never _ .

"Please take no offense at this," Jarett said, still holding her close, "but I am conflicted here. It feels that if I kiss you now, I am taking advantage of the situation. I have no wish to take advantage of you, ever."

"You're not."

"Cassandra, this will not solve any of your problems. This is-"

She looked up at him. "It's what I want. I want it because I just do. Please don't tell me I don't know what I want. This is one of the very few uncomplicated things in my life right now."

It wasn't, not really. Maybe it was one of the less complicated things, but what had developed compared to what she had asked originally was a real mess. Cassandra couldn't help it when the thoughts of--no, not even really thoughts, but just sensations and feelings when he was around (and not accusing her of things) of safety came forth in ways that made her vulnerable. How ironic; even the knowledge of it wasn't enough to steel her from taking comfort in his closeness.

It was a wonder she could put two thoughts together around him because she certainly wasn't making sense in her own mind. "You keep things calm around me," Cassandra said, and thought she wasn't sure it made complete sense, it was the only way she could explain it. In fact, she suspected that was his goal most of the time.

"You sound tired. Are you feeling well?"

"I  _ am _ tired, but I feel fine. Better now." She shrugged. As well as ever, which wasn't saying much, but it was better than she'd been just a month ago. In another month, maybe she'd be better still. This realization gave her a peace of mind, maybe only for the evening, but it was enough for her to be able to relax both physically and emotionally.

Mentally, she knew it was another story. It was a fight to get her mind to relax, to stop being busy, but luckily she had constructive things to work through. In the back of her head, as she looked up at Jarett, felt his fingers trace the line of her jaw, Cassandra thought about her list.

With the understanding between them now that Cassandra's concerns were as far removed from Jarett's as they could possibly be, they met in the middle. A light touch of their lips to start, hers curling into a smile at the contact, then a firmer kiss.

Before, her nerves had made every moment of contact a leap forward in the unraveling of her tension and control. Here, it wasn't anything so drastic, with the warmth in her belly and anticipation gradually building. This time, she held back, wasn't so forceful because now she knew Jarett would help her, lead her in a direction that so far she had liked very much. And if she didn't like it, all she had to do was say and he would stop.

After dealing so much with people who either deferred to her or spoke from both sides of their mouth, and being even and diplomatic (as much as she could), to be in this situation of almost raw honesty was refreshing. The idea of dishonesty here was an impossible consideration, not when they were so close

_ And maybe she was a little in love with him but that was ridiculous because she hardly knew him and this was the wrong way to go about but she couldn't control how she felt _

Cassandra drew back, and unlike her desperate hold from before, she put her hand on his cheek. "I don't think they would have done it, but I couldn't imagine being in an arranged marriage and being with some stranger." The position of weakness and vulnerability it would have put her in, to be inexperienced and uncertain was now a nightmare scenario for her.

It was easy for imagination to spiral out of control now, think about impossible, shadowy futures where she was still a pawn of the Briarwoods. Not a sacrifice this time, but bait, to lure in other powerful nobles to wed their "daughter" and consolidate power, only to take over, leaving her soul empty and her heart hollow.

"You are shaking."

Tucking her face into the crook of his neck, Cassandra said, "I need to stop thinking about what could have been. I mean, I  _ really  _ need to stop." Her fingertips made slow circles on Jarett's cheek without her even thinking about it. "I'll never have or force someone else to have a political marriage." She felt him smile.

"I wish I could follow your thoughts."

"They're scattered sometimes, I admit."

"Yes, because what this has to do with a political marriage, I have no idea."

"Wha-"

He silenced her, both words and thoughts, by capturing her lips with his, delivering a searing kiss.

The intensity surprised her, but after a moment, allowing herself to experience it rather than fight the sudden forcefulness, Cassandra pushed back. The angle was uncomfortable, tilting her head back slightly too far, so without breaking contact, having learned the subtle art of inhaling through her nose so as not to waste a single moment, she pushed herself to her knees.

Now it was Jarett's head that was tilted back; immediately his hands went to her waist, just resting there, fingers splayed out.

Cassandra pulled away, teeth lightly pulling at Jarett's lower lip as she did. "You smell so good." She'd wanted to say that for what felt like a lifetime.

"And you are beautiful. If you deny it, there will be severe consequences."

"But I'm n-" She squeaked as his arms went around her and pulled her to him. "You are," Jarett whispered before kissing her once more.

It was… nearly believable, but the kiss was a good distraction from trying to figure it out for herself, especially with the way they were pressed together and she was over him. For as long as there'd been people to compare herself to, she'd been the shorter one, looking up at everyone, but here….

Cassandra abruptly sat back, pulling out of Jarett's hold with ease. Composing herself briefly, because if she took too long she'd lose her nerve, she moved so that she was on her knees, sitting back on her heels, on the sofa. Looking at Jarett with intense concentration, thinking about anything other than what she was doing, she started unbuttoning her jacket.

"Cassandra." He made no move to stop her.

"It's just a jacket. I'm not naked beneath it. Besides, it's what we did before, and that was…." It was-

"It was all right, I hope."

She smiled, not just unbuttoning her jacket, but removing it. "It was more than all right." Cassandra didn't touch the small, carved pearl buttons of her shirt though; the two silver buckles of his vest were her next target.

He didn't move while she opened the vest, hands resting on his thighs, and found the courage to undo the top button of his shirt as well. Cassandra's eyes flicked up to the closed door, then back to the skin revealed. Catching her lip between her teeth and sucking in a breath, she went for the next button.

"It's not really fair, is it?" she asked, slightly short of breath. "Me doing this to you while I'm-" Cassandra rubbed her hand across the front of her shirt, hardly aware of what she was doing or saying, going on some sort of… instinct? She didn't know at  _ all _ . "-intact."

That made Jarett close his eyes and inhale deeply through his nose. "This is so unwise to be doing this in here." His voice was uneven, and his fingers were slowly curling into fists.

"It's fine. No one will interrupt. And if they do, I'll tell them to leave."

Jarett sat up, forcing Cassandra to back off. He took hold of her hand and held it out, before urging her without being forceful backwards. "Do not fear, My Lady. Nothing more than before, yes?"

Unfolding her legs, holding onto the back of the sofa with her free hand, Cassandra began leaning back. "Nothing more. Even if…?"

"Even if. For now."

Cassandra closed her eyes, exhaling as she tried to get the anticipation and nerves under control, and stretched out on the sofa, with Jarett half-crouching over her. Their hands were still connected as he leaned down to kiss her once more.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe possibly eventually, if only he'd learn that he makes her happy, and she's ready to make her own decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason I don't make these one long chapter is that I don't plan on them getting interrupted by bad memories and discussions and arguments. Because the next part will again be a direct continuation of this one. *sigh*
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.tumblr.com

It was cumbersome, in her dress with so many layers and on the sofa that was very narrow, and she was half-laying on her hair that pulled whenever she tried to turn her head, but it was all so very minor with Jarett laid out atop her. Most of his weight was on his knees, pinning her dress between her legs so she couldn't move them so much.

It was a fine line between feeling trapped and feeling… whatever it was she was currently feeling, but again, this was Jarett. 

_ "Julius, what are you doing?" _

_ "Oh my gods, Cass, get out of here! Don't you know what a shut door means?" _

_ She was only eight, so even with his shirt halfway removed, sleeves bunching around his wrists, he easily escorted her from the room. _

_ The unknown girl he was with pulled her dress up to cover herself, her cheeks red, but didn't seem at all embarrassed. _

_ "Little brat. Knock first!" He slammed the door in her face. _

Cassandra started to laugh in the middle of a kiss, couldn't stop it no matter how hard she tried, until Jarett pushed himself up, balancing his weight on one hand next to her head. "I walked in on my brother once. I was wondering if it was this sofa."

"A piece of battle-tested furniture then," he said, his mouth turning up into a wry grin.

The laughter that started to settle came back, and with one hand gripping his, the other encircled his forearm, Cassandra laughed aloud. Again, memories of her siblings were the positive ones, mostly; a measure of the darkness surrounding them had been banished. Not entirely, as she still had the random flashes of seeing the surprised look on Julius' face, cheek flecked with blood, and she didn't like to look at any of Vesper's old clothing, but-

But it was easier to not dwell in the dark memories now. It was even easier when Jarett was around because so much of her attention was on him, she had no spare thoughts for those memories. "I know you think there's something wrong with it, but you do make me happy."

"I do not think how you feel is wrong, only that you need more that makes you happy. Your happiness should not be tied to me."

That was a decent point, but: "I don't think I am. If you left, I wouldn't go back to what I was. I told you, you're helping me move  _ forward _ . And that is feeling any shreds of happiness I can, getting back those memories that aren't miserable and soul crushing." Cassandra's thumb made slow circles on his wrist. "I want you to stay, though. I won't lie."

"How could I say no?"

"It's easy."

_ It repeats in her mind, over and over. _

_ No _

_ They're all dead. _

_ No _

_ Her siblings. _

_ No _

_ Her parents. _

_ No _

_ She's the last one. _

_ No _

_ She wants to scream, but her voice is frozen with absolute horror. And maybe, if she remains quiet, the nightmare will silently stalk away and she'll realize this isn't real. _

_ No _

_ It's all too real. _

Saying no was easy, but not very effective in Cassandra's experience.

"You have that look in your eyes again."

"I said no a lot. It didn't do any good. It didn't change anything. I…" Her brow furrowed. "I won't stop saying it. I just need to start believing people will listen to me, and that it'll work. A lot of the people that have been suggested for the council are… old and stubborn."

Jarett grinned, his eyes shining with the flickering light from the fireplace. "Luckily, you are young and stubborn then. Time is well on your side."

Leaning up, Cassandra kissed him on the corner of his mouth. "Thank you for the encouragement. I'll do my best to be the most stubborn person in the room."

"And certainly the most beautiful."

Immediately, her cheeks flamed with embarrassment, and she turned away. "Please don't say that. I-I don't like it."

She expected some sort of argument, or maybe gentle chastisement, a declaration about how it was true, but he did none of those things.

"Very well. May I think it if I do not speak it?"

"Cheeky." Cassandra couldn't stop the smile slowly growing as she looked back at him.

"I shall take that as a yes then." His brow creased in deep thought. "Cassandra."

For some reason, he looked very young in the moment, far younger than she always thought of him as. "Yes?"

Jarett swallowed hard, his hand squeezing hers briefly. "May I undo your buttons?"

And he'd just been talking about how this wasn't a good idea, but perhaps doing it in her bedroom was a  _ worse _ idea. "Yes," she answered in a breathless whisper. "Please."

He lifted their joined hands to place a kiss across the back of her knuckles before releasing his hold.

Cassandra attempted to slow and calm her breathing as Jarett managed to get her top button undone. One button was nothing; when it was warmer, she went regularly with one button open and thought nothing of it. Even two buttons was not that big a deal, which was good because his nimble fingers opened the second even faster than the first.

A frown crossed her features when she realized that if her shirt were open far enough, it could be pushed back to reveal the ugly scarring on her shoulder, right on the muscle there where it hurt more and plagued her to this day when the weather was right. She didn't want him to see it, didn't want anyone to see it and renew the doubts about her.  "I, uh…."

And with that, Jarett stopped, became utterly still waiting for her.

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm not as ready as I thought." The hand that had been around his wrist moved to her shoulder, arm across her chest. "It's ugly," she admitted, and knew she didn't need to explain more than that.

"If you ever wish to talk about it, I am here to listen. Whenever you would like."

No, not really. She didn't want to talk about it. The scar was simply a matter of fact, and she knew Jarett would understand that people gets scars. Talking about it was worse than letting him see it though, because out of everything that had happened to her, it was the single moment in her life she was sure she was going to die. "I can't talk about it. I don't… ever want to."

Jarett's voice dropped to a low murmur as he said, "Then we never will. Perhaps it is time to retire, or at least for me to go. This has been-"

_ Disappointing. Why did she have to get so worried about now? _

"-a long day."

That was certainly true, but Cassandra wasn't tired. "I suppose, if you have to."

"I do not, but-"

"Come to my chambers with me," she said in a rush. Without so much light it would be okay, she could handle it. In a place that she knew no one would interrupt her in, think they had any right to invade, she could do it. In a place that was hers and hers alone, she could reveal herself. "It won't look as bad in the dark." Without waiting for him to reply, either to accept or decline, Cassandra muscled her way out from under him, tugging her dress out from under the weight of his knees and almost ripping it, and hastily refastened the buttons of her shirt. "Here, I'll be better there. I know it."

She knew people thought she was afraid of the dark, or at least treated her like it, but she'd spent five years with the darkness. It was no friend, but she wasn't afraid in the least. It was the place the monster that had killed her family lived, but it had also proven to be an ally. Here, she would use it as an ally once more, but for things much more normal.

Something people did in the dark all the time. Something  _ normal _ .

Once the buttons were fixed, and she looked mostly like she had when she'd entered the sitting room, Cassandra grabbed Jarett's hand and started to lead him out.

"The guard will see!" he hissed, resisting her pull as much as he could without actually stopping her.

"And? They saw it before. How is this any different?"

"I do not want them to think less of you for this."

"I hope they'd think I was completely normal for it. I mean, I'm eighteen after all. Even as nobility, I'm a couple years behind." SHe tugged insistently on his hand as she reached for the door.

"Cassandra!"

She stopped and looked at him, surprised by the sudden force in his voice. "What?"

"This is not something you should rush into. If you are unsure-"

"I'm  _ sure _ I want to continue in my room, where I feel more comfortable." For a brief moment, she considered dropping his hand, because the frustration had bubbled up suddenly. Instead, she closed her eyes, and said as evenly as she could manage, "I'm used to people not taking me at my word, so if you don't want to, that's fine. Just don't make an excuse that it's for my own good. I don't need people telling me what's for my own good."

Gods above, how did she get  _ away _ from these conversations?

"For five years my own good was being utterly selfish, doing whatever I needed to to survive, and now suddenly everyone else is an expert on what my own good is, and it's all what makes  _ them  _ feel better. I don't get it. Help me understand what sense that makes."

"It makes no sense, and I cannot tell you why others act as they do. I can only say that I am worried for your well-being, and what doing this so rashly may make you feel. What I want, more than anything, is for you to  _ not _ look back on these times as mistakes." He squeezed her hand. "Will this be a note at the end of five years of misery? I hope not. I want…." Jarett pulled her to him, catching her around the waist with his other arm, holding her to his chest. "I want to make you happy."

She could feel her eyes start to well with tears. "You already have. I'm just not ready to give up on it. Not yet."

He was torn, Cassandra could tell by the gentle crease of his brow and the slight downturn of his mouth, but also by the concern in his eyes and the way he held her hand.

"As long as you are not troubled by it…."

She shrugged. Eventually he'd figure out that being troubled was a small thing to her, too normal to warrant such concern from him. "You are more important than that to me." She could feel his entire body relax, but he didn't loosen his arm around her just yet. "So will you?"

"Of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is tough to balance between what could very easily be him just going "OK yes I'll do what you want and get what I want out of it too" and just constantly denying to "protect" her, denying what she wants. Also realistically understanding that what she wants is not necessarily something that is good for her or that she wants it for the "right" reason. Even then, what the "right" reason is is debatable, but here I'll say the wrong reason would be to mask or bury her issues and to use him as essentially a care-giving companion. Jarett's not her security blanket, doesn't want to be, and knows he can't be in the long run.
> 
> So they're going to have to fight through this for a little bit. My apologies.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scars, honesty, fashion, and a close encounter.

Cassandra shuttered the lamps and extinguished the sweet-scented honey candles so that the only light was from the fireplace, and even that was low, leaving large portions of the room in shadows that grew deeper as the night grew. The heavy curtains were already drawn to preserve heat, blocking out all of the day's last light. It was comforting.

She draped her jacket over the back of a chair before sitting on the edge of the bed to remove her low boots. Every movement, she could practically feel Jarett's eyes watching her, but tried not to let it get to her, make her overly self-conscious when she was doing such basic things. When it came to her shirt, though, she moved closer to the head of the bed, where less of the light reached.

Not thinking at all about his presence, just barely because her hands were still shaking, Cassandra started on the buttons of her shirt. The first was the hardest, the button slipping out from between her fingers several times before finally getting it through the hole. The second was easier, her thoughts slipping more into the getting ready for bed mindset, even with Jarett's shape, just a shadowy outline backlit by the fire, looming there.

Cassandra opened her mouth to speak, but kept quiet with the feeling that she would completely lose her nerve the moment her voice filled the room. So she just concentrated on the buttons, looking down at herself even though she couldn't really tell what she was doing in the darkness. Habit, it was all just habit, and that was how she had to treat this.

A steady tug when she got to the button at her navel, and the hem of the shirt came free from the dress. That wasn't how she'd normally do things, but stripping down to a silk skirt that was light as air just to get her shirt out was not a length she was ready to travel. The last time anyone had witnessed her in such a state of dishevelment, it was Delilah, and it had been terrifying and humiliating. Here, she did everything possible to forget that moment, to find some kind of normalcy.

Even though the weather was warmer, Cassandra wore layers because that was what was expected. So as her shirt was fully unbuttoned, she still wasn't showing anything beyond her stomach and her shoulders.

Could he see it? The scarring. She hoped not, even if he didn't care, because he cared. He wouldn't make her tell, but he wanted to know, and she wanted to tell him, but she didn't want to talk about it. She'd accepted his presence, wasn't denying it, which was something of a victory even if it was fraught with so many conflicts.

The shirt slid from her shoulders, off her back, to pool behind her on the bed. She'd never liked the cuffs with buttons, much preferred the loose cuffs with small ruffles. Vesper had always like the biggest ruffles to the point they made everyday actions difficult. On her, Cassandra loved them. On herself, not a chance in any of the nine hells. "Do you see it?" she asked as she stared at the wall in front of her.

"No."

"I don't care if you're lying, but I really want to know if you can see it."

Silence, and Cassandra knew he was debating on whether he should tell the truth.

"Not well," Jarett answered.

"Okay." She started to undo the tie that held her her soft corset tightly secured.

Jarett was at her side in an instant, covering her hand. "That is not necessary."

"Well, no, but…." But. She had no reason for it. "All right." She let her hand fall away to sit at her side.

"Is there something more wrong? You seem…."

"Just nervous. It's so ugly." A constant reminder, one she saw almost every day, of her own misery and the words they'd convinced her of finally:  _ we're the only ones that find you worthy of anything. _ "When Percy left-"

"Your brother did not leave you because of a mark on your shoulder."

Cassandra flinched when his hand touched the bare skin of her upper arm.

"This has been troubling you for a very long time. There is little I can do for the emotional and mental distress it causes but tell you there is nothing to fear. This scar-" His hand, without warning, slid up and found the patch of misshapen flesh to cover it. "-is proof that you defeated those monsters. No one can take that away from you."

"I didn't though. I would have let them do exactly what they wanted and followed them right into the abyss. Or let them shove me into the abyss. I was-"

" _ Alive. _ Now. You are alive now."

There were times when- "I don't feel like it."

"Perhaps I can help, in a very simple way. I suspect," Jarett said as he slid off the bed to get on one knee in front of her, "you have not allowed yourself a single moment of pampering." He ducked his head in what could only be interpreted as a sarcastic bow. "As is befitting of nobility."

"Now you're just being rude." She lifted her foot.

"Were you not treated with extra care and reverence before?" He started to remove her boot.

"No. I was too young, but I remember Vesper always liked getting her hair done and dressing up." She hadn't thought of it as getting pampered, hadn't heard the word pampered back then; it was just something Vesper liked and Cassandra didn't understand how she could sit still for so long.

"No special oils or perfumes or jewelry for you?" He removed her other boot.

"Mother thought I was too young. She knew they'd be wasted on me." Even for the fancy parties and official functions where she was required to make an appearance, she wasn't made to dress too fancily. She could picture the blue dress she wore at the dinner, how much she'd liked it before then because of the thick material and the long coat over the fitted vest. It wasn't dressing up that she liked as much as how it made her feel like an adult.

"I think you would not care as much for fashion in Ank'harel," Jarett said, sliding his hands up her ankle and calf, under the layers, until he reached the top of her stockings. "It is very… casual. Sometimes, the only thing that is different between the rich and poor is a layer of dirt." He began rolling the stocking down.

"I don't mind dirt."

"I know." After pulling the stocking off, he started on the other. "But I think they are more different than you might be comfortable with."

Cassandra's eyes were closed as she focused on the warmth of his hands on her leg. "I don't know. I've never worn anything but these kinds of things."

"If you would like to, I could find some from a trader. I know they were very popular in Emon."

"Did Mr. Gilmore have anything to do with that?" She smiled faintly from the memories of her interactions with the man.

"I suspect, but have no proof." He worked his hands and thumbs across her calf muscle, pressing into it, almost without thought. "And it is not quite suitable for the weather here. South, it would do well for the heat, but the humidity would turn them into a mess. I know it sounds a bit silly, but the billowing lightness is part of the-"

Cassandra leaned forward to kiss him. The angle was awkward, but the kiss itself was brief, she didn't register how she was bent forward. Her eyes were closed as she pressed her forehead to his. "Would I look pretty in them?"

"The most beautiful." He kissed her again, this time rising to his feet while maintaining contact, dragging his hand up her leg as well. To her knee, then past as she leaned back with him over her, until Jarett was cradling her thigh and lifting it.

The air was chilly on her leg, but his touch was hot and thrilling; the gooseflesh on her arms was not from the temperature of the room, that she knew. In an effort to loosen the way her dress was trapping her leg, Cassandra lifted it higher still, and drew and unexpected moan from Jarett that resonated through their kiss.

And with that, she knew this was what he'd been so concerned about. Even with her inexperience and her nerves, it would be easy, she was sure, to convince Jarett she was ready. She wasn't, but if she could convince Jarett, she could probably convince herself as well.

Jarett's fingers dug into her skin, just on the verge of hurting, but more exciting than anything. It wouldn't take much for him to discover what she wore beneath all those layers and further. But instead, he pulled his hand away, quickly enough to make it obvious he knew there was an edge they were coming to that they should  _ not  _ go over. He drew in a shaking breath, his hand on the outside of her dress now, before kissing her once more, this time nipping at her lower lip.

Putting one arm around his neck, not allowing him to escape like he had before, Cassandra put her free hand over his. This took all of her attention, not letting her lips fall slack, but not putting much effort into it either, because she started to drag his hand up her leg to her hip, then further. At her hip, he squeezed lightly, and she could feel him smile against her mouth. There was little else for her to do at this point but smile in return. He'd understand.

As he leaned heavily against the edge of the bed, in a way he hadn't been able to when they were on the sofa, Jarett fit dangerously between her legs. But that was a very temporary thought, along with the surprised realization that she could  _ feel _ him, and that was, at the least, intimidating. And thrilling. Not quite confusing, but logically compelling that it should cause those kinds of feelings when she had no basis for them.

Jarett's hand on her waist, the slight pressure almost possessive shifted her attention. The warmth of his hand, and the rough texture of his palm and fingers, on her skin, and with every second passing Cassandra wanted more and more for him to just touch her all over. Her entire body clenched, just for the briefest of moments.

It was everything about what was happening between them in a single pulse she could only describe as  _ need _ .

WIth an effort of will she wished she'd discovered years ago, Cassandra pushed Jarett away as his hand just started to squeeze her breast. "You're right," she said, breathing heavily. "This was a bad idea. I just didn't realize it before."

He backed away, slowly but without reluctance, and stood. He was, somehow, smiling. "Another time then. It is better this way. For tonight."

"I agree." And she did, but she wished she had the luxury of not having to. She wished she'd been able to have a different talk with her mother, about more than the facts men and women, and sex, and childbirth. Or Vesper even. Someone with a more experienced perspective that could give her the answers she sought, from a woman's point of view. Jarett would certainly do the best he could, but Cassandra had doubts he'd really be able to help.

She held out her hand, and Jarett took it to help her sit up. He kept hold of it. "Another night, Lady Cassandra." He bowed to kiss the back of her hand in a manner that was more than just polite, all the while keeping their gazes locked. "Perhaps tomorrow. Or the night after."

"Of course, Mr. Howarth," she said after she remembered how to speak. "I will take tomorrow into consideration." Cassandra watched him retreat, never turning his back on her, from the room.

"Good night, My Lady," he said just before he shut her door.

Alone now, in the relative darkness, Cassandra flopped back on the bed. She was bound to have a difficult time getting to sleep, and an even worse time concentrating the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I took a little time with this because I honestly wasn't sure how I wanted to handle it. I had planned on making it more explicit (no PIV or anything, just definitely more than hand on thigh) at first, then when I got to it, just didn't really feel it. So instead of forcing it, I let it sit, and finally came to the decision to deal with it like this.
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.tumblr.com


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her mind is made up, no matter how much Jarett tries to get her to consider the future.

The pile of documents on the desk, although much smaller than before, Cassandra pushed aside. If they were things she was going to be responsible for, she wanted to make sure she read them. At the moment, she wasn't sure she could make it through her own name.

Instead, she was writing a short letter to one of the masons that had helped with the reparations to several of the damaged structures around the city. Surely it wouldn't be much work to do what she had in mind for the garden, but it was an aesthetic desire, and she couldn't put that above the needs of the city as a whole.

She'd already finished the list for the groundskeeper, with a rough drawing of what she was thinking. The man, with his wife assisting him, had done a wonderful job so far in cleaning things up and planting new flowers and shrubbery where needed. Already he'd marked several trees for removal, ones that hadn't survived the harsh weather the Briarwoods had somehow brought with them; it wasn't just people out and about to indicate the return of life to Whitestone.

As she was putting the official seal on the letter, it occurred to her…. 

~

"If we could speak in private?"

Salda closed the book she'd been reading with care before asking, "Is there something wrong?"

"No, not at all!" Seeing the room was empty, Cassandra shut the door. "I was just wondering if I could talk to you about something personal? Some, uh, woman things." She cringed at how terrible that sounded, and even more at sudden gentle smile cast at her.

"Of course. It's easy to forget that-"

_ Please don't say it. _

"-I can talk about things other than politics or disasters. That it's-" Her smile faltered for a moment. "-it's allowed now."

"Yes, I suppose it is." And now Cassandra felt so selfish, because Salda was right. Her personal life was a sad spark in the world and didn't deserve this kind of attention when so many other things were so much more important. "It's fine. I don't want to waste your time with my silly-"

"No, stay. Please. I feel like I've abused your hospitality enough that this is the least I can do in return." Salda had her hand out, and if they had been closer, would definitely be holding on to Cassandra.

That eased the guilt, and Cassandra relaxed a fraction before sitting across from the older woman. "It's embarrassing, but I don't have anyone else to ask."

"I'll help in whatever way I can."

*

The stares were easy enough to ignore; she'd become very good at it after all, even if the reasons were different (she hoped). Not every day did the Lady of Whitestone enter the training grounds dressed in a well-oiled leather coat, heavy woolen trousers, and plain black boots, looking very much  _ not _ like the Lady of Whitestone.

And some of them just didn't like her, which was fair. She was coming to terms with the fact that no matter what she did, they'd never accept her.

There were others, and she knew, not from the frowns or sneers, but from the raised eyebrows and amused twist of the lips, they didn't think she belonged anywhere near a piece of steel. They thought she should just stick to the soft metal and jewels set in to ceremonial weapons, and not worry about wearing any kind of armor and holding an actual sword that could kill a man.

Little did they know she'd imagined killing several men and women every night before bed for five years. Most of these men, who'd only killed a creature on a hunt, had no idea the  _ actual _ blood on her hands.

"My Lady," Jarett said with a bow. "What brings you here today?"

She gestured to her outfit. "Thought I would continue my training, if you have the time. My head is not in paperwork and diplomacy today."

Nobody else would understand the look he gave her, but Cassandra did, and smiled in return. "But only if I'm not taking away from the training of the rest of these-" She looked behind her and nodded. "-fine-looking recruits." They were passable; hopefully Jarett would manage to get them into the proper condition.

"Of course." As he walked her to the equipment storage, he said quietly, "If you wish to spar, I-"

"I think it might be in my best interest to spar and beat the hell out of someone. Get it in their heads I'm not who they think I am." And though she wouldn't admit it, it would feel good to release a little of that anger she'd held on to ever since Vox Machina had stormed into her life. She stripped out of her coat before grabbing a gambeson and allowing Jarett to help her into it, tightening the laces on her sides for a better fit.

The first training sword she grabbed was ill-balanced, but Cassandra wasn't going to waste time finding one that that was better. Already she knew the others thought Jarett was showing her favoritism by assisting her; better to not give them further reason for their ire.

"A shield?"

She shrugged. "Let's see what they really think of me. They'll either be afraid to attack or go extra hard because of it. I see the look in your eyes. Don't worry about me. A fair hit is a fair hit."

Suddenly, Jarett gripped her arm hard. "Do not do this because you think you need punished," he hissed.

"I'm not doing it because of that, and I don't plan on  _ letting  _ anyone hit me."

~

"There  _ will _ be bruises."

The others had been excused until later, when they'd go for archery practice. Cassandra was very slowly removing the armor, feeling where she'd been hit the most on her left shoulder. It wasn't the only place she'd been hit, but it was the most pronounced. "I expected it. Wouldn't be the first ones."

And these were well worth it. She'd sparred, actually sparred, against two separate men, and given better than she'd got. But, as she'd predicted, she got a measure of the men that were there to become defenders of Whitestone. Without a shield, she'd been vulnerable, and to her approval, neither had held back.

She hadn't either, and at the end of each session, sweating in her armor ad breathing heavily, they couldn't doubt her. They couldn't doubt her ability or her commitment, and they'd remember it by the bruises given to them.

Jarett tugged the gloves off. "Beeswax," he said. "Dip your hands in it; it will help."

As ridiculous as it sounded, the way her hands throbbed at the moment, Cassandra would try anything.

"I should not have had you go a second-"

"Anybody else you would have. It's fine. I just won't be doing much writing for the rest of the day." She took the proffered towel to wipe the sweat from her neck and face. "These training swords are shit."

Breaking out into a wide grin, Jarett shrugged. "For these purposes, they serve well enough. I feel it would be a shame to use your sword here. I can see how much you want to."

"Just to show off." The throbbing heat in her hands was making the idea of holding a sword at the moment unappealing though, even just  _ thinking _ about it really. "I'm not sure if I should dress formally in armor or some ostentatious dress."

"Perhaps it depends on your audience, and what you wish to accomplish. There were leaders of many cities in Marquette that respected a show of strength over one of wealth."

"That's good, because the wealth is not what it once was. I'm hoping putting gold into the city now will bring a little prosperity back. I suspect, very shortly, we'll have to increase production from the mines and hope we have buyers. Maybe Emon. They all seem to have endless coffers." Cassandra slipped her coat back on, but didn't bother to close it; she didn't think she had the dexterity for the silver clasps down the front of it just yet.

She was about to walk out when Jarett's hand on her arm stopped her. "May I also suggest," he said quietly, leaning in close, "after dinner, take a hot bath to relax. If you wish, I-"

"Yes." Without a second thought, she kissed him hard. "So much yes."

While Jarett looked slightly stunned by the overt display, he nodded. "Then I shall see you later."

Cassandra took a moment to catch her breath and settle herself when Jarett left. The walk back to the castle wasn't far, but she took measured steps because otherwise she probably would have ended up running just to spend a sudden influx of energy.

***

He didn't show up for dinner, which disappointed her, but he hadn't indicated that he'd be there. Instead of allowing the disappointment to get to her, she settled her nerves with a piece of cake and only half of the rest of her meal. More and she thought she'd probably not feel very well if the way it was already churning in her stomach.

She did, at the end, have a half cup of ginger tea because that was what she remembered her mother giving her whenever she had a stomachache. It was a rarity now, without the trade to get more, but this was one night she thought it was worth it. Vesper would have laughed at her.

Vesper would have laughed even as she brushed her hair and put it into intricate braids. It had been such a chore, to sit there, and Pelor have mercy if one was crooked and had to be started over.

_ "One day you'll care what your hair looks like. Stop fidgeting." _

_ "But Ma-" _

_ "She just knew it was more trouble than it's worth. I'm not so easily deterred. Moving will just make it take longer." _

Cassandra pinned her hair up, off her shoulders and neck. Even this, without art or care, was something Vesper had been better at, somehow looking perfect in her worst moments of dishevelment.

_ Her body, broken and bloody from the fall off the roof, eyes sightless, in a pile, and somehow her hair was still in a crown braid. _

The water was almost too hot as Cassandra dipped her toe in,but she gave herself a moment to acclimate to it, especially with a single window cracked to let the cool night air in, before getting in and sinking down to her chin. The steam was fragrant and relaxing mentally; the water itself was enough for her sore body because, just as Jarett had said, she had vivid bruises already in at least four different places.

_ "Isn't that cold?" _

_ "That's the point." Julius held a bundle of ice wrapped in cloth to the red mark on his ankle. She'd been there when the horse had stepped on him. "Cold is better for a bruise. Heat will make it worse." _

_ "How do you know that?" _

_ He leaned forward to whisper, "Because that's what Mother taught me." _

That was the dilemma: treating the bruises or the tension? They each required the opposite, and she was hurting from both at the moment. Maybe a hot bath for tonight, and then-

"A heavy knock on the door jerked her from her contemplation instantly. Usually Av-

Jarett's voice muffled by the door reached her: "My Lady?"

"Yes? Come in. I'm in the water." The milky water maintained her modesty; she wasn't concerned about him seeing her like this.

The door opened just enough for Jarett to be heard clearly, but not to see or be seen through it. "I just wanted to ask-"

"And I still say yes."

He sighed, bringing a smile to her lips. "You might wait for me to ask my question."

"Very well, ask away."

"Do you have tea?"

That was the only thing he needed to say; Cassandra knew what kind of tea he was asking about, and it wasn't the sweet blackberry tea or soothing mint tea. "I do. In my chambers." She swallowed past the lump in her throat, further words almost choked off. "You can wait there. In my chambers. If you'd like."

"I shall." He remained outside the door. "I will not be offended."

"I know. It's… still on my mind."

"Very well, My Lady." The door shut.

Cassandra waited, trying to not think of anything, until she started to feel pruned and uncomfortable in the slowly cooling water. She put on three layers of robes, as was standard heading from the bath (though that was a level of modesty she'd witnessed Vox Machina abandon), and walked with determined purpose.

She  _ was _ determined, and that was enough.

Standing in front of her own door, Cassandra stopped and took three deep breaths. She was determined. When she opened the door and entered her chambers, she wasn't sure what she expected, but it wasn't Jarett standing at the window, dressed completely as normal. Something… romantic? That seemed ridiculous, and honestly she couldn't picture Jarett doing anything like that, not here.

Maybe back in Marquette, where he was familiar with the clothing and the food and the drink, but here where she knew he was a relative outsider, that didn't seem like him at all. Gods, she wasn't sure she even  _ wanted _ something like that. So while she was surprised, it somehow settled her.

A glance to the table found all the makings for tea, and that was put out of her mind immediately.

"Do you know this may hurt your future relationships?" he said, breaking the tense silence of the room. "There are those that think the purity of-"

Cassandra laughed, bitter and mirthless. "I plan on being here alone. I will not enter into a political marriage, and other than that, what man would want me with my past the way it is?" She took no comfort in the thoughts, but better to be alone than fight through that rejection and disappointment. "I will never escape the past, so I must temper my expectations of the future, and embrace the present."

"Your feelings on that might change." He was still looking out the window, hands now clasped behind his back.

"They might, or I might die tomorrow. I know how quickly things change."

"As do I." Jarett finally turned around to reveal a slight frown on his face. "I witnessed the destruction of Emon in a moment. And yet here we are."

"Yes. I suppose we just have very different outlooks on things. I might feel the same if I'd seen the dragons attack, and you might feel like I do if you'd been here. I don't care at all about some hypothetical suitor who may or may not care about my 'purity'. I am not a thing up for trade, no matter what condition I'm in." She lifted her chin, could feel the way her features pinched when she was feeling defiant, and tried to pull it back to ruin things.

Jarett, to all his credit, smiled at her, and nodded. "Of course not. I would never like to see you as such."

Releasing her breath, a sense of relief rushing through her, Cassandra nodded in return. Of course he would understand; he understood her better than maybe anyone. "Could you… turn around?"

He blinked in surprise. "Of course. I had not expected…."

It was rare to see him caught like this, speechless and in a situation he hadn't prepared for. Cassandra gestured with her finger, twirling it in a small circle.

Jarett crossed the room to stand in front of the fire, its flames flickering low to turn him into a darkened silhouette, and waited.

Watching him, Cassandra began to remove her robes. When she was on the final one, she paused, ready to open it and slip it off her shoulders. Jarett had not moved a muscle. Biting her lip, eyes wider than they had been, Cassandra dropped her robe, then in her hurry to get under the blankets, her feet got tangled and she flopped on the edge. Feeling exposed, because she was, she scrambled to climb on the bed before throwing the blankets over herself.

Jarett still hadn't moved.

She tucked herself deep down, pulling all the blankets to her chin, and felt very dumb about the whole thing. "Okay," she said in a small voice, and waited for him to turn around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to make sure I kept all relevant dialogue in this part, because the next will be explicit to some degree. So for those who don't want to read that, there will be no missed story for you. (I haven't determined how explicit yet. I'm not much of a erotica/porn writer anymore; it may be lots of dull implied things, though I'm trying really hard to not make things dull.)
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> echoisles.tumblr.com


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She asked. He agreed. Now it's time to follow through.
> 
> Mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me a long time, I know, but here it is, and it's not even proper porn. It is, ultimately, not required to read if you don't want to read vague PIV implied awkward first time sex; I tried to keep it free of major character building so if you're not interested, nothing will be missed.
> 
> But seriously. One sentence. I finally found the one sentence that let me finish this. :/
> 
> echoisles.tumblr.com  
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com

Methodically, without any sort of flare, Jarett began to undress. His uniform coat and vest were draped across the back of the chair at her vanity. With obvious experience, he was able to remove his boots quickly without needing to sit, then removed his sword belt and scabbard. They also took a spot on the chair.

In the dark brown wool trousers and simple white shirt, he looked like something from a dream. Cassandra hoped the light wasn't enough in the room to reveal her blush, not one caused by a man dressed in common clothes. It was the wrong time and place to feel like a child.

Then he started on the shirt, and with each polished wooden button that was slipped free, each piece of skin revealed, Cassandra sunk lower until she had a blanket pulled up to her nose. It was difficult to pick out any detail, other than the scarring across his shoulder and upper arm where he'd faced his mortality against Thordak, and she resisted making some pointless comment for the sake of breaking the silence.

The shirt Jarett just let fall to the floor before unbuckling and removing the thin leather belt that kept his trousers secure. They slouched, but didn't drop. The buckles made a muffled clinking noise when it hit the floor atop his shirt.

Very quietly, Cassandra said, "Jarett."

"Yes, Cassandra?"

"I…." This wasn't about the silence. It was about honesty, even if he already knew. "I never-"

"I know."

"Because I had to make sure you knew, and I know it's going to hurt, isn't it?"

"It may, but I know only what I have been told."

Cassandra nodded. This was a conversation she'd never gotten to with her mother; it had been slightly too adult for her. Now look at her predicament, but pain… "It's only temporary, isn't it? It won't hurt forever." Nothing could surpass what she'd already experienced, but those injuries had definitely made her pain shy. Just the thought of it made her uneasy.

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

Jarett sat on the edge of the bed, his upper body turned so he could look at her and she could see his face. "There are things I want to say that would not be respectful of your experiences or your strength. So I will say this: I will do whatever you wish. If you say stop, if you tell me to leave, that is what I will do. Know that you have no reason to hide how you feel."

"All right. Thank you. That makes me feel better."

"I hope you are not frightened."

"Just nervous, I think. I've never done anything."

He became very still. "Not even alone?"

"I felt like I was being watched, like they knew everything I did. I could never, even if I wanted…." They would have used something like that against her in an unimaginably awful way. It still felt like at times, whatever she did in the castle, someone  _ knew _ .

Jarett stood, and Cassandra was sure he had changed his mind about the whole thing, that he didn't want to deal with her issues in this setting. To have to teach someone who didn't even know about their own body? But he turned, only a few steps from the bed, and looked at her. "This will be our secret." The trousers were functional, but also more ornamental than what would be worn in an actual battle, an indication of his position and respect he'd earned.

_ And he was hers. _

No, no he wasn't hers. That was the voice that learned from the Briarwoods. That was something she wanted no part of, she was absolutely sure. "Please, I don't want to talk about secrets. I get… thoughts that I don't like. The Briarwoods whispering in my ear." As interested as she'd been, she still had ghosts to battle at the  _ worst _ times.

"Of course. I did not mean-"

"No, it's not your fault at all. I was just…" Cassandra managed a small smile, because she understood the feeling even if she wouldn't allow it to influence her. "Feeling possessive, I guess."

Jarett sat on the edge of the bed once again. "Possessive?"

"I don't want to feel like that, like I own something I have no right to." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I can't own you."

"Of course not," he answered simply, as if she was talking about swimming in the sky. "I give myself freely to you." And he proceeded to undo his trousers, raising up just enough to slip them down when they were loose and pull them from his legs. He bent down so that what he was doing was out of sight.

Cassandra watched his back, the surprisingly smooth and unblemished skin over lean muscle shone in the dim light, and wanted to touch him. Just maybe run her fingers straight down the middle of his back, from his neck to the top of his fine silken shortpants. She actually started to reach out, under the blankets, when he sat back up. Even though her hand wasn't at all visible, she retracted it immediately.

He did the same thing with the pants that he did with his trousers, and then in one smooth motion, he turned and slid under the blankets, situating himself so he was on his side and looking at Cassandra.

In the moment, Cassandra froze completely, to the point of holding her breath.

"Cassandra." Jarett's voice was quieter than before now that they were so close. "Tell me what you want."

A hundred thoughts raced through her mind at once, and not one of them provided her with an answer. What did she want? A shrug, revealing the tops of her shoulders, and she turned just her head to look at him. "You."

"Come closer so I may kiss you." The volume of his voice remained the same, but the tenor had dropped, becoming something throatier, more resembling a growl.

Slowly, to make sure she remained covered, Cassandra moved closer. They were within easy reach of one another, and all it would take was for each of them to lean in. She wiggled slightly, just enough to shrug the blankets free of the top of her shoulders and exposing the scarred wound there. It felt like it was glowing in the dark, that it  _ demanded _ to be looked at if only because of how she got it, but Jarett wasn't looking anywhere other than her face.

Keeping her hand beneath the blanket so as not to move the covers further down, she reached out to him. "Is it all right to touch you?" Jarett was covered similarly to herself, so even though Cassandra kept looking at his chest, she couldn't see anything.

"Yes, please do."

There was a tension to his voice, a strain that made her think he was being far more polite than he wanted to be, or that he would be if she were someone else. Using that to bolster her confidence, Cassandra placed her hand in the middle of his chest. His skin was warm and smooth, the hair she could feel fine and sparse.

She didn't move, but when Jarett did, she tilted her head, let his body force her hand back, and parted her lips. He was aggressive without being forceful, and Cassandra surrendered to his advance, slowly rolling from her side to her back. She trusted him, and trusted that he knew she would say what she needed to, when she needed to.

When he had her pressed to the bed, bracing himself so his full weight wasn't on her, Cassandra shifted her legs. A small movement, a turn of the foot and flex of the calf, and suddenly all her attention was on the position of her legs and their relation to Jarett.

That would have to change.

Cassandra withdrew her hand from his chest to settle it lightly on his back, then pulled her head back from the kiss, pressing it into the pillow.

His lips parted, and the small inhale that indicated he was going to ask if she was all right because he didn't want to hurt her or scare her, and it was terrifyingly considerate of him.

"Now," Cassandra said, cutting off his question.

Jarett's whole body… paused. He didn't freeze; he wasn't afraid, or even concerned really, because he just turned his head and kissed along her jaw. "Would you prefer to be on top?" he asked quietly, his mouth moving over the smooth skin of her cheek, back to her ear. "It would give you more control."

But Cassandra shook her head. "I wouldn't know what to do," she whispered in response. It wasn't embarrassing; it was shameful because-

"There is nothing wrong with learning," he said, running his fingers down her cheek, to draw her out of her dark introspection. "Nobody is born knowing these things."

Of course- "But it just feels…." Cassandra shrugged. "I've missed so much."

"I have no words to offer except I will be here to help you move forward."

Fear, she realized. It was all rooted in fear and her embarrassment and shame, and as much as she didn't want to, as much as she wanted to deny it all, she had to rely on Jarett's help. But here, in her own bed, it was what she'd asked of Jarett in the first place.

It was too late to be ashamed; this was what she wanted.

When he leaned down, his fingers just on her jaw, and kissed her, Cassandra could say that this was what she wanted. If only because she had no reference, this was  _ good _ , and comfortable, and she felt safe even when she could feel….

"I'm ready."

Though he held her gaze, there was no questioning of her decision. Jarett just nodded, and then started to reposition himself.

Cassandra just kept still, shifting her legs so he could get between them comfortably, and moving her arms so he could brace himself comfortably on the bed to either side of her. It was a little intimidating, especially the way he was looking at her with such intensity. Jarett opened his mouth.

"I'm ready," she repeated, cutting off whatever he was going to say, probably ask her if she was sure again. "I'm really ready."

For a brief moment, his brow furrowed, and he gave her a curt nod. "Who am I to argue with the Lady of Whitestone's wishes?"

But Cassandra smiled, softly through her nervousness, and said, "The person I trust right now more than anyone else in the world."

_ Relax. Relax. Relax. _ If only it were that easy because there was so much going on, every brush of skin made Cassandra tense in anticipation. Just his arm against hers, or his knee on hers when she shifted her leg, and that was… different when he leaned down and pressed his chest against her own.

Then his hand ran down her side, paused at her hip to squeeze in something that might have been comfort in a different situation, then Cassandra jerked, however subtly, when she she felt the brush of his hand on her inner thigh. It wasn't too late to stop, not too late to tell him no even while she was telling herself she'd let it go this far so  _ couldn't  _ tell him to stop.

"Cassandra."

That was when she realized she'd had her eyes squeezed shut, hard enough that upon opening there were lightning bugs winking at the edge of her vision. "I just… need to believe I can say no." Cassandra closed her eyes again, but not nearly so tightly. "It didn't matter what I wanted before." When she opened her eyes once more, it was still Jarett she was looking at, with his eyes that shone like amber in the low firelight and his sharp, beautiful cheekbones.

She could say no, she could tell him to stop. She could make her own choices and people would respect them.

With her voice quivering now, she said, "I'm terrified," and managed an honest if shaky laugh.

"No good person would think there is anything wrong with that."

"I'm not a good person, so it's fine. I don't-" She was silenced by a forceful kiss, Jarett's weight pressing down on her even with his hand on her thigh. Being more surprised than anything, Cassandra barely returned it before he pulled away.

"If that is what it takes to stop you from punishing yourself, then so be it."

"Is that what you think it is? Then this is pity."

Jarett sighed before leaning in to kiss her more softly. He stopped, but didn't move his head away, so that he spoke directly against her lips. "You know this is not an act of pity. You know I do not pity you. I want…."

When he licked his lips, Cassandra took the opportunity to kiss him again, forgetting his hand on her thigh and his chest pressing down on her breasts. "What do you want?"

"This. You," he replied almost immediately, and his fingers dug into her thigh as a clear reminder what he meant. "What do  _ you  _ want?"

It was simple, if she could just stop getting distracted: "Same thing."

He smiled, so understanding and sweet that when he said, "How eloquent," Cassandra didn't get offended she just nervously smiled back, though she knew there was also fear in her eyes.

"I've had to learn my…." Licking her lips, Cassandra shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Maybe later, because. Yes. Same thing." Was it always awkward like this? Was it always talking getting in the way, making things worse somehow, when she'd been as ready as she thought she could be? "Jarett."

"Of course," he answered simply, quietly. He'd grown more serious, but hadn't lost the little hint of affection and humor she'd grown used to in his eyes. "Are you-"

"I don't think I will be if we put this off any longer."

Ducking his head for a brief moment to stifle laughter, Jarett lifted it to kiss her, less fervent but no less passionate.

That was something so very easy to fall into.

And then

_ Let him do it, relax, he knows, he'll say something if _

Cassandra took a deep breath, gripped his arms without even truly meaning to.

He brushed a soft kiss to her cheek, and then moved sharply against her, in her. Not in an aggressive or violent way, just… sudden, and-

"Stop. Stop stop stop," Cassandra said, grimacing and pushing against Jarett's chest.

Without hesitation or complaint, Jarett pulled away and moved to her side. "Cassandra."

"It's fine," she answered, getting her breathing under control, and only just then realizing she was shaking. "I guess we answered that question, if I was…." A sudden worry gripped her, sending her heart that had just started to calm racing again. "It's not like that every time, is it? It's just the first, right?"

"That is my understanding." He looked at her closely, even in the darkness, then brought his hand up to touch her cheek.

She didn't need him to say anything to know what he was asking. "I'm fine, really. It was just…. It hurt, and I was surprised, but I'm fine. But I don't think I'm ready. For anything. Else? Are you upset?"

"Not at all. You asked to stop, which I already told you I would do if you asked. There is nothing I can be upset about." He found her hand, which was holding the edge of the blanket, and pulled it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. "You owe me nothing; if you wish me to leave-"

"No! I don't want you to leave; please stay."

"Whatever you wish."


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regrets are for people who don't have bigger things to worry about, like a city, a wayward brother, and their own sanity. And cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A much needed re-watch of the end of the Chroma Conclave arc has given me more characterization to stuff into Cassandra in future parts. But this one isn't about any of that.
> 
> echoisles.tumblr.com  
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com

Cassandra awoke the next morning, stretching her arms over her head before even opening her eyes. She could feel the warmth of the sun coming through the window on her skin, the light forcing its way through her eyelids.

There was no sudden realization what had happened the night before; she remembered well, and was happy to find, even in her not fully awake state that she didn't regret it at all. There was a step, a big step, she'd taken, but there was more ahead, an  _ end _ that neither had reached.

Or maybe that was as far as they were going to go, that Jarett considered the task finished. That didn't seem likely to her, not if she was interpreting his behavior in the right way. Not that she had any experience with that either; perhaps he was just a very good actor.

But all these possibilities spinning in Cassandra's head were really just excuses for not confronting the truth of the moment. She opened her eyes, squinting at the bright light, and then looked over to the empty half of her very large bed. Of course. 

She'd been getting her hopes up, for once, like a child, only to be reminded there was no room to be a child in Whitestone for her.

Feeling much less optimistic about the day, Cassandra forced herself to leave the warmth and comfort of the bed behind, hurrying naked to her wardrobe. Without care for the day's outfit, she pulled out clothing based on comfort. It felt like the one day she could do this, and not care what anyone might think.

Once she was dressed, very casually for her, and she was about to get her brush, only then did she notice the folded note on her vanity in front of the mirror. On it, in plain and tidy writing, it said  _ Lady Cassandra _ .

The feeling welling up in her couldn't be considered excitement; it was more like hopeful nervousness. Certainly there was always a possibility Jarett was just letting her know he wouldn't…. That he couldn't….

As much power as she was afforded in Whitestone, as much was allowed her through no effort of her own, Cassandra was still unsure of her actual place in the world. By all rights, she should be dead, so where did hope come into her life? Why should she bother with it, hoping for anything?

But she knew why. She just wasn't ready to admit it in so many words.

Cassandra picked up the note, opened it, and read.

_ Cassandra, _

_ The Lady of Whitestone gets the privilege to sleep in as long as she likes. I, however, do not. I hope you forgive my stealthy exit; you looked very peaceful and in much need of the rest. If I am being too presumptuous, I will understand your refusal, but I hope to see you at dinner tonight. _

_ (Please drink your tea. It takes very little for accidents to happen, and I would not want this to affect your life in a way you are unprepared for.) _

_ JH _

Relief like she hadn't expected flooded through her, and she couldn't help but smile as she released a shaky breath. Without hesitation, she took the letter to the fireplace where glowing coals were still giving off a decent amount of warmth, and put the note in it. Using the iron poker, she pushed it down until it finally caught fire and was mostly ash. It wouldn't have been terrible if anyone had read it, but it certainly wasn't the responsibility of anyone else what she was doing.

As she was getting back into her normal morning routine, brushing her hair and putting it into some semblance of purpose when there was a gentle knock on her door. "Yes, come in."

As expected, Ava was there with a small tray. A single cup, a pot of hot water, a plate with a selection of pastries, and several types of tea to start the day, just as she started the day every  _ other _ day lately. With no one else in the castle, full breakfasts seemed wasteful; Cassandra had told the cooks to take the mornings off.

"I'm sorry, Ava, but I'll just have the-" She almost said tea, stopped, then reconsidered. A quick glance to the side table where pot of long-cold water sat, and she sighed. "Thank you. I do have one request." Her face started to heat immediately, and Cassandra hoped she wasn't blushing too badly. "If you could put clean linens on the bed today?"

No questions, not even a look. Ava gave a small curtsy. "Of course, My Lady. Is there anything else you need?"

"No, I'm all set, thank you." She waited until she was alone again before starting on the tea. The special tea wasn't really tea; it was bitter to taste and the steam stung her nose when she inhaled it. But she held her nose and downed the whole cup, following it up immediately with some of the cold water from the previous night's pot. A cup of regular tea and a pair of pastries rounded out her breakfast, and without a thought to spare for the previous night, Cassandra began her day.

***

"The food will get cold," Cassandra said quietly, a little breathless with the way Jarett was crowding her against the wall.

"Only a moment," he answered, tucking loose hair behind her ear. "Cold food is a small price to pay."

"For w-"

It was almost as if he was unsure as she was, because although he moved in swiftly, the kiss he gave her was soft, bordering on sweet even.

"I wanted to stay, but duty dictated otherwise. Please forgive me."

She could feel his breath across her cheek, and didn't open her eyes. "I thought you were… done. Our deal was done, and you were done." When she felt his forehead touch her own, Cassandra tilted her face up, wanting another kiss but too shy to initiate it.

"This is not a deal. You asked something of me. You did what I asked in return, and-"

The heat from his body, in the warm clothes Cassandra had picked, was nearly unbearable, but she held on to his shirt and pulled him as close to her as possible. "And?"

"And I think this is nothing so simple now. Not because of last night, but everything that led us to it."

Cassandra found enough of her courage, not to kiss him, but to ask, "Do you want to do more?"

"Only at your desire."

Opening her eyes, and though at such a close distance it was difficult to look into his, she did so. "Yes or no, Jarett."

It took long enough for him to answer that Cassandra was worried he'd been humoring her the entire time, but when he did, it was with a small quirk of his lips.

"Yes."

"Me too, so we don't have to worry about it, right? And if something changes, you'll tell me. You won't just…."

"I will not. There will be times when my goodbye will be abrupt or impersonal, but that is merely circumstance. Abandoning you would be…." He was obviously struggling for words, but finally said, "I would be a lesser man for it. You are worth more."

But that seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because Cassandra turned her head, and said, "Oh, I know my worth here."

"I count for so little? You wound me."

Cassandra turned back sharply to look at him, surprise and concern on her face. "No! I-"

" _ If _ you doubt your worth," Jarett said, the conviction of his words quieting her, "please think of me. You are worth more than this castle and this city."

"I can't think that way. I can't be selfish and put myself above the people that live here. I can't-"

"You can. You must. Take care of yourself to take care of others." He gave her a small smile. "As I know you would refuse to allow me to take care of you, you simply must do it yourself."

The mood shifted in an instant, away from the more serious tone it had taken to something much more… personal. "I would like you to take care of me very much." Honestly, Cassandra had no idea where that was coming from, except that she was tired of the guilt and the weight of responsibility, even if it was self-imposed. Jarett made her feel freer, lighter when he could distract her from everything she wanted to run from.

"You need only ask," he said, and allowed his lips to brush against her ear. "Whatever you require of me."

Cassandra shuddered, gooseflesh racing down her neck, and her fingers tightened their hold on his shirt. It was effort to remember this was okay now, they weren't teasing an impossibility. Reality, one that wasn't awful, had settled back into her life, and she only needed to accept it to reap the rewards. "Jarett?" she said, bringing her hand to cup the side of his neck, thumb caressing the skin just beneath his ear.

"Yes?" His entire body was crowding her, almost pressing her against the wall, and he'd lowered his mouth so they were  _ almost _ touching. "Anything."

"Tomorrow night." There were no words in her mind to describe what she wanted, not anything precise. "Please." And that was the best Cassandra could do at the moment.

The food was forgotten. All of her responsibilities to Whitestone were forgotten. Her brother was forgotten. All that mattered was right here; it wasn't profound, but she felt like her life wasn't as hopeless as before. The future would remain to be seen, of course, but now Cassandra felt like she had someone behind her.

There was always,  _ always _ , the possibility in her mind that she would be forced to flee Whitestone. There was an idea that the populace would form an angry mob and come for her, and she couldn't blame them, but she was sure that at least Jarett would help her. Because it was on one hand she could count those people. Reliably anyway.

Her brother, as much as she believed him, and his friends were not around enough to rely on. There were a few others, but none as close to her, nor was she certain they wouldn't be swayed in the face of a hostile crowd.

His voice pulled her from her uneven thoughts of the future and possibilities.

"But I think we should eat. I had a pitifully small lunch and a very busy day tomorrow." It was said with all seriousness, not a hint of humor, but he was still holding her there against the wall.

The only response Cassandra could think of that made half an ounce of sense was, "I think there's cake."

A startled laugh before he kissed her quickly and stepped away. "I would not keep you from cake, My Lady."


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doubts, circular thinking, and boar for lunch again. Cassandra's not sure she can get herself straightened out, and Jarett's not helping, no matter how he tries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've been descending into circular writing, so Cassandra's gotta get her shit together.
> 
> echoisles.tumblr.com  
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com

The past two days had been kind of a loss for Cassandra. Not in a bad way, of course, but she'd been too pre-occupied to get much work done. Today, though she was equally distracted, she couldn't put things aside for another day.

"Coffee, My Lady."

Cassandra patted the pile of papers she had to get through. "Thank you. I'm going to need it today."

Setting the tray within easy reach but out of the way of the official work across the desk, Avan asked, "Is there anything else you need, My Lady?"

"That will be all." She waited until she was alone once more, and relaxed in the chair. Sinking lower in the chair now with nobody to see her, Cassandra poured a cup of coffee and started to eat one of the slightly sweetened biscuits. Really she should have gone down for a proper breakfast, but again, she'd left enough work for herself that spending time not doing it was only causing trouble for herself.

Somehow, for some reason, the council, the actual Chamber of Whitestone put their trust in her, and even though she couldn't really see it, she hadn't let them down.

There was always a  _ yet _ but they hadn't reached it. It was all a lie, of course. They let her lead, they pretended to listen, they watched her closely. She felt it, their scrutiny, their condescension, their morbid curiosity. It was a warped feeling of how she'd felt around the Briarwoods; she'd traded her malevolent masters for more level-headed ones.

And that was why this work was so important. Not for them, because Cassandra has given up that front, but because she wanted this for Whitestone. That was her priority now. Without it, she might have been crushed under the combination of guilt and mistrust and animosity.

She frowned at the paperwork. Anyone else would have been able to put it away until they were in a better mood, but for all the (modest) wealth around her, Cassandra had no such luxury.

Why couldn't this damned city handle itself?

***

"I'm a fraud."

They were sitting in the courtyard garden, unfinished now, but it was enough to sit on the rough bench in the center, far enough away from her watcher in the doorway to not be heard.

She hadn't planned on sitting here with Jarett, but the morning had been rougher than she'd anticipated.

"And why do you believe that?"

And for this, she'd pulled him away from his duties. "Because all that time, they listened to me like I knew  _ anything _ , as if I was in control of anything. I'm certain they were humoring me because this still is technically my castle." Cassandra shrugged and took a bite of the cold sandwich.

Smoked boar. Joy.

There was nothing Jarett could say in her imagination that would make her feel better, but she wasn't going to stop him.

"I know you are not determined to be the only victim of those dragons."

The scarring was still visible on his neck, though with a simple healing regiment was fading with each day.

But Cassandra was not going to be shamed for this. "It has nothing to do with the dragons. Nothing at all." She turned to face him, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. "If it hadn't been them, it would have been something else. This place draws misfortune.

"It's not dragons because it could be a bad harvest or a mine collapse or a harsh winter. And they'd sit around the table and look at me, and ask what should be done. If I give an answer that makes sense, wonderful. If I don't, they ignore it and do what they think is best. Why do I even bother?"

Jarett tilted his head, almost as a mocking bow. "Of course, this is a problem only you have, and no one can help you with."

With her mouth open in disbelief, Cassandra stared at him. Her teeth clicking as she snapped her mouth shut, she stood. "Good day, Mr. Howarth." It took all her willpower not to run, not to burst into tears of frustration and betrayal.

Gods knew she was very familiar with those.

Before she could get two steps away from him, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, putting both arms around her and holding her to his chest.

"Let me go!" she snapped, and struggled against the hold, but she was no match against him. "Jarett, let me go right now!"

"I will once you realize you are not alone in how you feel," he replied simply, one hand locked on the opposite wrist so that Cassandra could hardly move at all, not even to lift her arms enough to push at him.

"You can't do this to me!" Cassandra started to duck, to slip out from the hold.

Without tightening his hold at all, Jarett released the grip he had on his own wrist to slide his arms around Cassandra more fully. "No, and I have no wish to. You seem determined to undermine yourself, no matter how I try to convince you otherwise. Please, start trusting someone. Anyone."

Cassandra had stopped struggling, though she still looked angry, slightly angry. Maybe more distressed than anything. "There was a dragon in my home."

"I know."

"This castle is the only thing I have left. There was a monster in it." She leaned into him, let her body relax, but didn't return the embrace. "Is that it? No matter how many times I get rid of them, they come back. What's the point? They keep coming back, and I can't stop them."

"What do you want me to do? What can I do to help you stop them?"

"Nothing. Nothing helps." Nothing made the nightmares stop, not entirely, and nothing at all made the memories leave her. They were so basic, so simple, nothing of ghost stories. Just her brother's face as he looked at her through the thick glass after she'd betrayed him ( _ again _ ). Just the faint looks of hope in the eyes of the people of Whitestone when they'd thought she was helping them. Just the predatory way Sylas watched her, and the sickening false affection in Delilah's voice. Just the knowledge that they would have killed anyone and destroyed everything, and she'd been completely powerless.

"You're shaking," Jarett said quietly.

"No one can tell me how to live with myself. It's not about forgiveness or trust," she answered, and though she wanted to hold on to him as her shaking grew worse, Cassandra couldn't bring herself to do so. "I just can't…."

They''d wanted to kill her, and she couldn't blame her. She'd been ready for Percy to kill her right there, let her blood soak into the stones to join the rest of her family.

"This all would have been so much easier if he'd just killed me," Cassandra continued, and sighed. "He could have Whitestone, and I wouldn't be the stone hanging around the neck of every person here."

Jarett made a thoughtful noise before saying, "Does it help to consider things without your presence? If it truly makes you feel better, then perhaps I should let you continue, but I hear things in your voice that make me uneasy."

With a little shrug and laugh, Cassandra said, "My life is a series of traps, and I don't know anything about disarming them." She looked up, no longer angry, just hurt. "And nobody has figured out how to do it either."

"I suspect you refuse to allow them."

Eyes looking away, a thoughtful purse to her lips, Cassandra-

Jarett kissed her.

Was this it? More than comforting words and pitying looks, just someone willing to be in her presence, to tolerate everything wrong with her. Pulling away, with some hesitation, she said, "I'm just worried this is me being selfish." Her hands had found their way to the front of his uniform somehow. "I don't know how to do any of this."

"Every time is different. Every person is different." Still holding her, though more loosely now, Jarett moved to sit down on the bench again.

Very gently, with the obvious intent to sit next to him, Cassandra pulled away. She waited until he was seated, then took her spot a respectable while still near distance from him. "You shouldn't have done that," she said quietly. "Not out in the open like that." She couldn't look at him.

Jarett only laughed quietly. "My Lady, I understand discretion as well as anyone. We have not been discrete. Private, yes, but not discrete. If they do not know, then they have strong suspicions."

"Oh." How embarrassing. And it suddenly occurred to her, instilling a quiet blooming terror, that there were people in Whitestone that had the power and influence to… "Does Yennen know?" Cassandra asked, breath catching and heart now hammering in her chest.

"Not that I know. I have not seen him beyond his walks to the castle for meetings. Are you afraid of him?"

"Not him specifically, just what he could do if he wanted. He doesn't like me very much. He could make your life unpleasant too, if he wanted."

But Jarett only chuckled and shook his head. "I must confess something."

Finally Cassandra looked at him, surprise overtaking the look of fear. "What?"

"When you asked if I had ever been in love and I said no, that was not entirely truthful. It is the reason I was forced to leave my home. I was younger than you are now, so if I was truly in love, I cannot say, but it might have been. I think she felt similarly."

Only the worst thoughts flooded Cassandra's mind as to what he could have done to force him to leave, but she couldn't put voice to them. The thoughts alone were bad enough, but to ask them was actually frightening.

"But as barely more than living on the street while she was very well off. Certainly too good for someone like me according to her parents. If I had not left with little more than the clothes on my back, they would have had me executed." He chuckled to himself. "I suppose it was not love if I refused to fight for it."

"Live to love another day?" Cassandra offered, but it sounded silly and childish in her ears.

"I suppose. Even in hindisght, it is hard to take comfort in. I struggled when I arrived here, Tal'Dorei, but…." He shrugged. "I am as far away from Marquette on this continent as one can be."

Cassandra blinked, looked down at Jarett's hand that was currently clenched into a fist. "That's awful. What does that have to do with me?"

To her surprise, Jarett laughed, took hold of her hand and squeezed. "Only that there is never a time when a person knows what they are doing. When I thought I could see the future, even if now I see it as foolishness, it was taken away from me in an instant. My family, my home, all gone.

"There is no knowing, only adapting to the circumstances."

It was a good thought, but Cassandra wasn't buying into it at all. "I think you're overestimating me. And I don't know that you're really hearing what I'm saying." She turned so she could look at Jarett directly, and see he was looking at her. "When I say 'this', I mean everything. I can barely have a conversation without saying things that people don't understand or come out wrong.  _ Nobody _ understands me."

With a shrug, Cassandra turned away, a tension loosened in her, though she couldn't pinpoint why. Understanding? Acceptance? Maybe it was the simple look of acknowledgment from Jarett. Maybe he finally got it.

"Then I have been overstepping my bounds. Often," he said with a concerning solemnity. "I apologize."

It was easy enough in a way that was surprising for Cassandra to answer, "You didn't know.  _ I  _ didn't know, but I think I do now. It's a step, at least."

Where it was leading wasn't on her horizon really, but it felt better to know there was a direction for her to head. For too long she'd been moving in circles, only able to focus on the things directly around her and simply reacting. And in that case, Jarett's advice wasn't so off the mark.

And as dark as her past was, she'd learned to adapt to survive. "Thank you," Cassandra said, and nodded to herself. "And I really am sorry for what happened to you." Her hand was still in his.

"I do believe it brought me to something greater. I had no vision beyond the Marquet, and here I am now, having fought a dragon."

"Better to fight one than live with one."

"In the future better to avoid both."


End file.
